


[Remix/Rewrite] In Submission

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Series: Omega Skies [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Lussuria being Lussuria, Male Pregnancy, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Skies, Omega Xanxus (Reborn), Omegaverse-type Consent Issues, Other, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Porn With Worldbuilding, Price of Dying Will Flames, References to Dino/Superbi Squalo, Relationship Tags Added After Relevant Scene, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames, Unreliable Narrator(s), Varia being Varia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11349654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: Second in the Omega Skies series.He was Xanxus di Varia, and herefused.





	1. Xanxus's PoV

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Submission](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437240) by [Night-Mare (Aoife)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare). 



> This fic is _significantly_ kinkier than Tsuna's; it will feature violence, voyeurism, blood-play, breath-play, somnophilia played for it's similarities to necrophilia and tentacles; the bit that comes closest to disturbing for the author, though, is that Mammon takes an active part - in their chibi form - in Xanxus's heat. Their chapter will be clearly marked, and they're the penetrator - using tentacles - rather than the recipient, and were able to consent to their involvement. (Far more so than Xanxus.) This dances right up to my own lines. It's only because Mammon's definitely a cursed adult that it doesn't cross them - read at your own risk.

Bester had woken him by flopping his head on his belly; he’d insisted that Mammon find Verde and make the Lightning Arcobaleno recreate the box animals - on the grounds that the Varia needed to keep up with the main Family, but really, he had a soft spot for his Sky Liger, and the animal was incredibly comfortable to nap with. He’d still woken up grumpy and achy and tired, though, and then the animal had destroyed _every_ bottle of alcohol before he could actually drink any of it.

He’d actually ended up throwing Wrath Flames at his box animal - he normally reserved that kind of treatment for particularly stupid mooks; he doted on his Liger. Not that he could injure Bester; the animal was as much a construct of his Flames as anything else, but it had made him feel perversely better to try. The box animal had just absorbed his Flames, and then stalked off, and from the cry of “Voooiii, let me up, you stupid box animal!” had gone to torment his Rain - who had been behaving bizarrely since they’d all received the memories from the Future. All territorial, in a way that was nonsensical.

(Lie. He’d always known why he had a problem attracting a replacement for the traitor. Squalo got territorial and chased other Clouds off, but the Shark's own Cloud Flames had stayed stubbornly Latent. Except they weren’t now. If his shark wasn’t careful, he’d make the man administer _both_ divisions.)

But without Bester’s soothing purr, he hurt worse; ached in uncomfortable ways. More uncomfortable than those cold winter days when the zero-point scars from his ‘father’ and the handful that the baby-Boss had inflicted on him ached and pulled, the skin over the still cold marks too tight and too sensitive. More uncomfortable than he remembered being in the Future-That-Wasn’t, where he’d gone toe-to-toe with Byakuran in the aftermath of the baby-Boss’s fake death - and damn, he hadn’t known the baby-Boss had been hiding such a Misty side - they’d drawn, both battered and dragged off by their respective companions. He still didn’t know how Squalo had resisted fighting Genkishi for long enough to do so; the first thing his right hand had done when they’d _remembered_ was to go and quietly kill the man. Just in case; not that anyone would _know_ for sure that was why the illusionist swordsman was dead. Squalo was Varia Quality after all.

(Lie. He knew why Squalo had held off from killing Genkishi. The bond that made the swordsman’s stump itch when he was in danger was more reciprocal than he’d ever let on. It was more important for the Rain to keep him alive than it had been to fight the Mist again.)

He put together the hints that had been staring him in the face. The focus on his Right Hand, his favourite - and strongest - of his Elements, the itch under his skin, the ease of his non-Wrath-diluted Sky Flames coming to the surface. The bluntness of his intuition, stripping back even his own white lies. Even the way his box animal was behaving - not that was a known symptom, not from how new the creatures were; but Reborn’s report on the baby-Boss’s heat had said that Natsu had been very needy in the day or so before the baby-Boss had slipped into full heat. _Shit_. He thought he’d escaped the damn Sky Curse; he hadn’t succumbed to it in the Future-That-Wasn’t, and the Rings had rejected him, making him almost certainly a ‘sport’ - his memories implied that he’d done his research sometime in the next ten years and found that almost all the Italian Skies had at least a trace of Vongola blood in their lines, enough according to a conversation with Talbot, that they’d have passed the blood lock - and he’d _hoped_ that meant he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

He lost his battle with his Wrath, currently separated from the Harmony that kept it _mostly_ manageable by the start of his heat - it was something he frequently teetered on the edge of doing, anyway, to the point where he _knew_ Squalo had protocols for evacuating the mooks, and the ability to survive his Wrath long enough to sound a warning was a prerequisite for Officer status in the Varia. Which would be the other half of the reason they _still_ didn’t have a replacement Cloud; between Squalo's territorality and the fact he'd slaughtered the handful of Cloudy mooks they’d had when he’d discovered Ottabio’s treachery, they were short of likely prospects.

(Lie. He had wanted the baby-Boss’s Cloud as his Cloud Officer since he’d first laid his eyes on the boy during the Ring battles; he was still trying to bribe Alaude’s descendent into taking up the post two years later. Only the best, the strongest for the Varia, and no other Cloud was strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Kyoya Hibari.)

The mooks ducked and scattered as he raged through the Varia Compound, a destructive maelstrom that had all but his Officers fleeing for whatever nebulous place of safety they could find elsewhere. He had bonded Lussuria in the aftermath of the memories coming, leaving only Levi as sworn rather than bound; he _couldn’t_ deal with the Lightning’s hysterical worship. He _almost_ wished that one of the man’s mooks would take him out. Yes, the man would adore to be _his_ , but he for all he was a Sky, he wasn’t all encompassing the way the baby-Boss was. And he held his Elements even closer than the baby-Boss did, for all he hid that fact like a dragon guarded their hoard; they were his to keep, his to hurt, his to _kill_. No one else’s.

He'd hoped - fuck he'd prayed - that the fact that he was a ‘sport’ rather than the Ninth's blood would mean that he wouldn't have to deal with this, that it was more Blood of the fucking Vongola shit; he knew the baby-Boss had succumbed to it; there’d been reports from Japan that the little Sky was carrying quadruplets but the baby-Boss was a throwback, fucking Neo-Vongola-Primo. But he - Tsuna - was still of their generation, had definitely been the first of their generation to succumb to the Sky Curse; Cavallone hadn’t, nor had Aria, or any of his brothers before they’d died - if one of them had, the baby-Boss wouldn’t have been a candidate, and he’d have stepped aside for one of his ‘brothers’ children. He still hated his ‘father’ for not waking him up after Enrico’s death. Perhaps he could have saved Massimo or Federico; he had still loved the prats, even if they hadn’t been his brothers-by-blood.

(Lie. Yuni was Federico’s; he recognised those eyes. He just wasn’t sure if Aria had birthed her or Federico; Family records had shown Federico disappearing with his single bonded Guardian, a Mist, which would explain the singleton birth, for several months. One of the two of them had gone into heat. Which one didn’t matter; he’d still defend that little girl viciously.)

He didn't want to deal with this shit; he’d never bottomed, never wanted to. He liked the soft bodies of women; paid good whores good money for uncomplicated pleasure. He had no desire to submit to the traditions that said he had to let a holder of each of the other six Flames of the Sky mount him and try to plant a brat in his belly, especially as he only had four bonded Elements .He didn’t know who his Flames would call as his last two, nor did he want to think about how Mammon, trapped in a chibi form, would knot him, or the damage Belphegor and Lussuria would do to him while seeking their own pleasure. Even the fact that they were his Trash, was no comfort; they were his compliment, an extension of his Will, and he was a hedonistic sadist.

(Lie. He’d enjoy anything his Trash did to him, and that was the part that scared him, that drove his Rage. He also feared the Ninth finding he’d gone into heat; that he’d find himself frozen in place by his ‘father’ and serviced. Flames restrained so he couldn’t fight it.)

The idea of being fucked over and over again until this first heat dissipated, until he’d had six compatible Flames forced into his body and he’d been impregnated made him shudder; it wasn’t _natural_ for a man to carry a child. Not that running around with his hands on fire was that normal, either. But the choice between that fate, and the near fatal fevers that an untended heat could produce was no choice at all. Byakuran had gone into a heat after the ‘death’ of the baby-Boss and their battle, and there had been rumours of how ill the Mare Ring holder had become without a complete set of Elements - whispers from the baby-Boss’s Mist, who had been _inside_ the Millefiore, watching, and had nearly been dragged in to the heat in question; and there had certainly been no child from it.

He refused.

(Lie. There was something he’d forgotten. Something important.)

His blood boiled as his flames danced just beneath his skin and the weight of them spread through the compound. It hurt as he fought himself, fought the urge that coursed through him and instead set the world aflame. Perhaps he could _burn_ the need out of himself. Or failing that, could make it so that his Elements had to fight their way to their ‘goal’. If they were exhausted, he could take them rather than it being the other way round. He could _almost_ stomach that.

He was Xanxus di Varia _and he submitted to no-one_.


	2. Squalo's PoV

It was their crazy fucking Storm, who, as insane and unstable as he might be - even Belphegor himself admitted that everything that had happened with Rasiel and their parents had broken any semblance of sanity he might have once possessed - but still a certified genius with an eidetic memory, who had figured out what was wrong with the Boss, much to his annoyance. The ‘symptoms’ the blonde had reeled off certainly fitted, and it _definitely_ explained why the shitty-Boss had been destroying _everything_ in his Rage; he’d have been at least as angry in the same shitty situation. At least the shitty-Boss hadn’t worked out it was probably his fault he’d gone into heat; he’d finally got his Cloud Secondary Active, after all. He suspected it was why the Boss’s shitty box animal kept trying to curl up on top of him, too - even when he pushed it off. Damn overgrown house-cat was just an extension of the Boss’s Flames, after all, and even if the Boss was refusing to accept the heat, his Flames just wanted his Guardians.

At least now they had the mooks out of the way - which would reduce the paperwork in the aftermath - so they could watch the show; thank fuck they had evacuation protocols for dealing with one of the shitty-Boss’s shitty tantrums. And Levi had been grazed by a Wrath shot - some of the mooks had evacuated him with them - which meant they didn’t have to deal with his shitty-reaction to the Boss getting fucked, or the clean up if the Boss’s Flames decided to immolate him.

The four of them left in the compound were tag-teaming the Boss so he didn’t leave the compound; none of them wanted a raging Sky, with his overpowered Flames loose; not when the baby-Boss was out of action and the Ninth was far too likely to dump their Sky back in the Cradle as his first response to this level of tantrum - or _worse_ , use it as an opportunity to subvert the Boss’s bonds. Mammon was using their clones to distract him right now; their body was safely in the control room with them, which was just as well given that about half their clones had been disintegrated with Wrath shots from the hand-cannons the shitty-Boss called pistols.

It was getting a bit ridiculous though at this point; fuck he’d known the shitty-Boss’s reserves were _deep_ and he’d trained himself even more ruthlessly since the memories had set in, but really - six hours on his feet and _still_ destroying things? Even for the strongest willed individuals, those who'd trained both their minds and bodies to bear the strain of using their Flames there was still a finite length of time they could wield them for. Tools could reduce the cost; the baby-Boss’s gloves were prime examples of that, as were Xanxus’s own guns - which had taken the Sky _years_ of work to make, unlike the gloves the baby-Boss had been given for ‘free’ - but not eliminate it.

But he was finally weakening, starting to show his exhaustion; it wasn’t obvious, not yet - the tells wouldn’t be recognisable to anyone who hadn’t fought alongside the Boss in that fucking Future-That-Wasn’t - and wouldn’t be for a little longer. In fact it was only because he’d both seen the shitty-Boss exhausted when battling the Ninth, and his ‘future’ self throw himself at that stupid fucking Millefiore Sky after the baby-Boss’s fake death, that he knew what his _truly_ exhausted - on a physical and Flame level - Sky looked like.

He also knew, thanks to those memories that either the shitty-Boss got fucked - either by them, or others drawn in by his Flames - or there was every chance this would _kill_ him. Future him had _seen_ the reports from Mukuro about Byakuran’s fucked up heat; they’d amused him then, that the Millefiore Sky might be brought down by his own sex drive, but now it just had him plotting to make sure _his_ shitty-Sky didn’t end up killing himself in his denial of what was going on.

Which meant that he and the other three would need to fuck the Boss, which was not going to be a hardship (though surviving the aftermath might be a _challenge_ ). The Boss was gorgeous - even with the scarring, which in his opinion just made him _more_ attractive - and him being Varia Quality means that his entire body was ridiculously well toned; one could bounce a euro off the man’s ass.

(And those thoughts just _confirmed_ that his Sky was in heat as far as he was concerned; he’d have never thought about his shitty-Boss’s attractiveness unless the man’s Flames were _demanding_ he did; he’d dealt with an unfortunate crush during puberty, while his Sky was frozen and gotten over it; he’d not thought the Boss would _ever_ be interested.)

The Boss was panting, exhausted and sprawled on his Mist-spawned-throne, eyeing the destruction he'd caused within the Varia Compound. He was quite obviously only hanging onto his self-control and his ability to refuse what was being demanded by his fingertips. The shitty-Boss’s cheeks were flushed, and his scars were vivid, taking up far more of his skin than they normally did; between that, and the beads of sweat dripping from him, his shiity Boss’s blood had to be _burning_ ; the bulge in his uniform pants suggested that his cock had been erect for multiple hours, and even his leather pants appeared to be absolutely sodden with multiple fluids.

His own cock certainly had been erect for most of the last six hours; masturbation had not been of any help, and even Mammon had been cranky enough to also be suffering. If the shitty-Boss hadn’t been tiring, he’d have probably resorted to fucking Bel; the crazy Storm’s ass was looking increasingly appealing, especially with the way he was chewing his bottom lip while they watched the Boss Rage. And his balls _ached_ ; they were swollen and sore, and the base of his cock ached. At this point he probably had fucking blue balls, and damn it, he wanted to do something about them; and he wasn’t going to get to walk away from the shitty-Boss’s tantrum about his biology. It was taking all four of them to contain the bastard, and he never wanted to lose his Sky again.

Xanxus snarled, throwing himself back up from his ridiculous throne - which promptly disappeared - and into an exhausting exercise routine, probably trying to ignore his version of the aches his heat had inflicted on them. It would make his plan far simpler if they didn’t have to over-power the shitty-Boss; this would be less painful for them if the shitty-Boss was exhausted.

He turned away from the screen that showed their Sky doing chinups on a mostly destroyed door frame, and back to the other three who were _also_ watching both him and the screen. Mammon smirked from beneath their hood; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how the Mist was planning to satisfy their shared Sky, but Mammon had assured him that they would be able to do so, despite their status as an Arcobaleno. Which was _interesting_ given that the report that he’d stolen from the Ninth had featured much frustrated ranting from the Arcobaleno in Japan, not all of which was about the crazy fucking Millefiore Sky who’d snuck into the baby-Boss’s bed in place of his too young Lightning.

Bel’s grin was a trifle disturbing; he suspected their Sky was going to come out of this heat with a few new scars courtesy of their Storm, and Lussuria had been far too pleased for his comfort at the plan to allow their shitty-Boss to tire himself out; he _almost_ made the okama promise that their Sky would survive the heat, but their bonds to their shitty-Boss wouldn’t allow them to kill him. So if the okama wanted to fuck their shitty-Sky while he was unconscious, and the Boss’s Flames didn’t object, he wasn’t going to _either_.

He’s the one that walks, openly into the room where their Sky is still working out. He’s the strongest of the four of them - at least with Mammon cursed - and the least likely to take a serious injury from their shitty-Boss before they could tie him up and get him into his bedroom - one of the few places the shitty-Sky _hadn’t_ destroyed. It was as if the shitty-Boss had known how this would end.


	3. Xanxus's PoV

"Shitty-Boss." The voice was his Shark's, and it carried a wealth of affection and a complex collection of other emotions, including want, and need, and buried under all that, but clearly ‘audible’ in his swordsman’s Flames, a hefty dose of arousal. He wanted to snarl, to demand that his Rain Guardian leave him alone to his personal battle, to throw Wrath Flames at him. He wanted to take his Rain to bed, wanted to fuck and be fucked, and damn it, he didn’t want to fuck his Shark, he liked his pleasure uncomplicated, a transaction - he fucked whores, not his Guardians, and paid and protected them well for their time.

What next, a desire to fuck Belphegor? Fuck, he had to think that thought; his brain supplied him a dozen mental images ranging from him taking the lithe Storm to being taken, to him covered in thin and bloody cuts from the crazy little shit’s knives, and one of a wild-eyed Bel obviously in the middle of one of his frenzies, a bloody bite-mark on his shoulder. At least he’d missed the brat prince’s growing up, hadn’t been the father figure to the Storm he could so easily have been - a small fucking mercy, when his damn Flames were demanding he bend over for the crazy fucking teen.

The heat had been boiling through his system for at least six hours now, and he had Raged since he’d realised what was going on. He was absolutely exhausted, having ridden the edge of what, if he hadn’t established he wasn’t Vongola, he would have assumed was Hyper Dying Will Mode for the entire time; it was the same state he battled in on the rare occasions he got a decent fight out of anyone, though the last time he’d gotten to use it properly was the Ring Battles with the baby-Boss. All his mind wanted to do was sleep. But for that to happen, his body would have to stop its betrayal, which it showed no signs of doing. All it wanted was pleasure; his Flames wanted his Guardians. He was hollowed out, slick to the point of dripping from places he didn't want to think about, and his traitorous Flames were almost purring at one of his own being so close, and refusing to charge his pistols for another shot at his goddamn Rain, who had managed to deflect his last shot with a sword.

No. Not just one of his Guardians. All four of his bonded ones were present, three of them under an illusion that broke once he knew what it was hiding. Mammon was perched on the Prince's shoulder, an amused smile on their lips beneath their ever present hood, the chains off their Pacifier, which glowed with their Flame; Belphegor was nude, save the rather abused and thin pair of leather trousers that formed part of his preferred day wear. His aroused cock obscenely outlined, the newly formed knot clearly visible on the teen. The sight made his Flames hungry, made the slick place he wasn’t thinking about throb, and his fingers itch to bury themselves in the blonde hair and force the Prince to suck his cock.

"Shishishishi, the Boss has seen us." He glared at his brat of a Storm, who was playing with some of his every present knives, licking them suggestively, and eyeing his ass.

“Mou. The Captain did tell me to make the illusion conditional; where would be the fun if he couldn’t see us.” There was a brief, threatening illusion of tentacles behind the Mist, and his gut clenched at the thought of what the diminutive Mist could do with those; the thought rapidly multiplied, and his mouth dried as the Mist smirked at him.

“Oooh, Boss, you’ve been holding out on us. You’re all pretty like this.” His Sun was going to get himself flambéd when he recovered; the okama knew damn well he had to keep his fetishes away from anyone ‘useful’. He tried to scrape together enough Will to throw Flame at all of four of them, to drive them off, but he'd thoroughly exhausted himself and even that effort left him panting. At least he could be fairly sure that even his pervert of a Sun and his insane Storm wouldn't kill him, if for no other reason that enlightened self interest. Their bonds - and sealed oaths - to him would kill them if they were directly responsible for his death.

The tentacles that abruptly grew out of the floor, wrapping themselves around him, forcing themselves under the few pieces of clothing he was still wearing, were one of Mammon's illusions. They had to be, he knew that, but he was tired from trying to fight the rising heat that he couldn't dispel them, couldn't figure out what the clause was that would break them, and the Mist’s Pacifier was glowing, brilliantly, and shit; that was a ‘real’ illusion; it couldn’t be anything else, and the baby was serious about participating in his heat if he’d jumped straight to that skill set; he rarely used it unless the price for a mission was phenomenally high.

The Arcobaleno, he realised, had wanted him to break the earlier illusion. Wanted him to know that they were there. His trash were good, he decided. He recognised his Shark in the strategy they'd used. It was very much the way the man fought, allowing his opponent to exhaust themselves and then moving in for the kill. He’d appreciate their techniques more if they hadn’t been using them on him, but it had still been a rather impressive display of their skill set.

Both the Prince and the Shark had a significantly more slender build than his, with the wiry muscles respectively of a knife-fighter and a swordsman; even his okama Sun wasn’t as well-built as he was, though he came close. Whilst he knew from previous experience that they were all deceptively strong, he wasn't surprised when the three of them crouched around him, and the tentacles shifted to allow them to pick up his still cocooned form between them, though he was not happy about their obvious intentions, and tried to kick the Prince, who was down by his feet.

Squalo used the opportunity of skin contact to hit him with a fairly hefty dose of his Flames, and the three of them dragged his limp, barely conscious form towards his suite of rooms, Mammon floating along in their wake. He must have made a questioning noise though because there was a giggle from his insane Storm.

"Shishishishi, the Prince wants a bed for the siring of Boss’s heirs." He could only snarl weakly in response. There was nothing else he could do with his Flames exhausted and how throughly they had him trussed up; his body's entirely too happy with what they're doing to him, with the tentacles beneath his clothes, probing his hole, wrapped around his cock, and threatening to fill his mouth.


	4. Squalo's PoV

The three of them carrying their Sky cooperate to throw the shitty-Boss on his ridiculous oversized bed; it was a giant four-poster bed, a good foot higher off the ground than normal, that would have made _far_ more sense if their Sky was prone to wanting company. But as past precedence was that if the Boss wanted sex, he went out and fucked whores, and disturbing the shitty-Boss when he was sleeping was a great way to get things thrown at you - including Wrath Flames - it was a goddamn waste. He eyes the tied up form of their Sky, and raises an eyebrow at the Mist Officer; their tentacles were still wriggling despite their apparently detached status, quite obviously opportunistically groping their Sky, which probably _wasn’t_ helping the shitty-Boss’s temper.

“Mou. Going first’ll cost you, Captain. I could slip -” he stepped forward, Sword raised, and doused Bel and Lussuria with his Flames in the same breath, leaving the two of them slumped on the floor, sleeping the sleep of those with - what would be for a non-Officer - a terminal overdose of Rain Flames.

“- as could I. He’s _mine_.” He could feel his newly awoken Cloud Flames clawing their way out of his control, flaring along the length of the Sword he was holding to the Mist Officer’s throat “I was his first Guardian, and _I’ll_ be first to take the shitty-Boss. _Understood_.” The Arcobaleno eyed him, lips quirking into a smirk.

“It’s going to be amusing when the Boss realises this is _all_ your fault, Captain. Purple looks surprisingly good on you.” Mammon’s response is barely audible, pitched not to carry to their Sky, who is still weakly fighting the Mist’s groping tentacles. The Mist clicked their fingers, and the bindings unravel from around their Sky, leaving him sprawled half propped on a number of pillows, dressed in the now somewhat ragged remains of his Varia uniform; the shitty-Boss’s jacket and tie having been discarded at some point in the morning. “It’ll cost you,” there was a degree of reluctance in the Mist’s voice, and he wondered if this was in fact _not_ the first Heat the miserly Officer had been involved in, “but I yield him to your _tender_ mercies.”

If the shitty-Boss hadn’t _exhausted_ himself trying to fight this, the glare he fixed him with would have had him digging out one of the annihilation missions normally reserved for the brat-Prince to sate his Wrath on in a bid to save himself the headache of the all the extra paperwork that came with dead mooks. But as Xanxus was exhausted, and there was a ‘simple’ solution to his shitty-Boss’s issue - namely his shitty-Sky needed to get _thoroughly_ fucked - he was going to ‘take’ one for the team. He kicked the brat-Prince out of his way - he’d fuck the shitty-Storm later - and climbed onto the bed with his Sky.

He swallowed, and applied some of his own Flames to his mental processes. Yes, the shitty-Boss was going to _kill_ him later, but he wanted his shitty-Sky alive to do so. “As I see it, there are two options, Boss. Either I dowse you in enough Rain Flames to leave you in the same state as the Prince and the Pervert are currently in, and try to forget how much like Lussuria fucking you in that state will make me, or you cooperate. Your choice.”

It curled something in his gut, something uncomfortably like anxiety when even the shitty-Boss’s _voice_ sounded exhausted when he spoke. “Just - don’t let the Ninth near me, Shark-trash.” Shit. What did the Boss think his shitty-father would do? There was genuine worry there, and there was no way the Ninth Generation was going to miss that they’d had to evacuate the fucking mooks - or the likely presence of one of the Officers in the Iron Fort’s infirmary, given Levi had been dragged off with Wrath-induced wounds - _fuck_. But his Sky’s Flames - what there were left in his reserves, given how hard he had worked to exhaust himself - curled around him, purring at the closeness, and shit, how had the shitty-Boss been fighting them? His damn Flames had just latched onto him like they were _starving_ , distracting him from his attempt to work through his shitty-Boss’s logic loops, which made no fucking sense half the time _anyway_.

“Sure, Boss.” He shook his head, shaking off the influence of the shitty-Boss as best as he could. If he had to be fit to chase the Ninth Generation off, he couldn’t let his Sky’s Flames dictate _everything_.

“Want to see you Shark-trash. Need to know-” His eyes widened, and that set off another train of thoughts he didn’t really want to consider, including whether the shitty-Boss had been awake in the Ice. It wasn’t like the shitty-Boss to need reassurance, but the way he was spreading his legs distracted him from the thought. Fuck how was he suppose to get the Boss’s uniform off? Even if he woke up Bel and made him use his Flames, the uniform was designed to resist even _Wrath_ Flames.

Fuck it. He’d try his Sword. Worst case he’d have to pay the Mist to get the shitty things off the Boss; and he _had_ learnt a few new tricks from the baby-Boss’s Rain. He concentrated and the Sword gained a light purple sheen; it cut through the toughened fabric easily, but was even sharper than he’d expected, leaving thin bloody cuts on his Sky’s legs; he threw some Rain Flames at the cuts - nothing was life threatening. The shitty-Boss hadn’t either winced or even _cursed_ at him and the brat-Prince would appreciate the blood when he allowed the shitty-Storm to wake up.

Ths shitty-Boss’s eyes were shut; his lips curled into something that might pass as a grin - or a grimace. “You know, Boss, I had the most _dreadful_ crush on you when you were frozen.” He timed the drop of his head for when Xanxus’s eyes started to open in shock, Rain Flames allowing him to relax his throat enough to swallow the Sky’s cock in a single _easy_ motion.

“Fuck. Where the fuck did you learn that Shark-trash?” He hummed around the cock in his throat, fighting the need for more air; he could hold his breath for _minutes_ , damnit. He could get his Sky to cum before he needed to release his cock. His fingers traced lower, checking that this was in fact a Heat; given how easily his fingers slid into the Boss’s very, very slick, hot passage, body giving no resistance at all to his probing; he curled them, pressing up. A hand, large, and with a faint corolla of Wrath Flames tangled in his hair and held him in place as the cock in his throat erupted with cum. He almost choked on the sensation of it filling n his throat, and he did cough experimentally when he was allowed to pull off; his stomach felt bloated with the amount the Boss had shot.

“Don’t think you want to know, Boss.” Fuck; even with Rain Flames he sounded throaty. Not that he would tell even if asked; failing to pull the Boss off an allied Don - and one the baby-Boss liked - would not be good for interfamilial diplomacy. The fucking-Horse didn’t have an heir, either which would make for a cluster-fuck. He rested his head against the Boss’s thigh and took a couple more deep breaths. “Fucking you now, Boss, or waiting for that to rise again and taking a ride on it, first?”

“Shark-Trash,” the Flames around the Boss’s hands start to flicker, growing in strength, and he swears, Rain dancing beneath his own skin and fits himself to his Sky’s entrance. “Shut-Up. We _both_ know how this _has_ to go. You can ride it later.” Xanxus doesn’t let him choose the moment, though; despite how much effort the movement clearly takes, he manages to curl one leg around him, and forces him ‘home’. He has to shut his eyes and use Flames internally to stop his knot popping the moment his balls slap against his Sky’s arse.

His Sky’s Flames flare, and all those horror stories about Skies immolating intruders into their heats pour through his head, but all they do is wind themselves around their existing bond, the one that makes his stump itch when the shitty-Boss puts himself in actual danger and reinforce it. To the point where he can ‘taste’ his shitty-Sky in the back of his head. Can feel the conflict between enjoying this and hating it and the underlying fear about the bonds he has being usurped. And about the consequences, and he throws a glare over his shoulder; if the shitty-Mist tells the shitty-Boss about him triggering his heat, he’ll remind him that the Mist Officer could have prevented the resulting pregnancy. If the Mist had chosen to; Mammon was _definitely_ skilled enough, but hadn’t.

He thrusts. It’s a reflex, not a conscious action. His mind is still full of implications and shit like that, but his _body_ and his Flames know _exactly_ what to do with a slick, tight, willing-ish hole to fuck - and do; he just has to adjust so he’s striking the places that drag interesting noises from the Boss, and the moaned “Squalo,” - his name, rather than one of the semi-affectionate insults the Boss normally uses - makes his knot pop. It’s a large enough one that he has no range of movement at all, catching not just in tight muscles, but against bone and he holds his position, eyes locked with his Sky, cock milked by the hungry passage he’s buried to the root in. His balls, at least, are relieved; they’d been swollen and sore with cum, waiting for the Boss to see sense. “Boss?”

“Mou. Nicely done, Captain.” He shivers at the reminder that the miserly Mist Officer has been watching them; tentacles curl at the edges of his vision, an unwelcome interruption into the moment.


	5. Xanxus's PoV

There was a shocked sound from his Shark, and then the tentacles had them _both_ ; tentacles wrapping around him, and wrapping around his Shark, gagging his noisy Second before he could respond to the Mist’s words; the tentacles curled around his wrists and ankles, stretching him out until he was spreadeagled, and held him. Held him stretched, exposed, still knotted on his Rain’s cock.

He could feel himself dripping slick from _there_ , despite the size of the knot wedging him open. That wasn't somewhere that should drip, for fuck sake; and it _especially_ shouldn’t drip when it was _full_. A slim tentacle probed at his ass, and goddamn impatient fucking Mists; his ass was occupied by his fucking Rain; he tried to protest, but his Mist just tutted and a tentacle slid over his mouth before he could do so, and an another illusion tangled up his Flames so he couldn’t even reach his Wrath.

“I’ve been waiting a _very_ long time for this, Boss. Since Luce got us all cursed; no Sky since has been ‘open’ to an Arcobaleno participating -” there’s an amused sound as he tests the limits of the tentacles binding him, finds them solid without Wrath to burn them off, “- but for all you protest not being All Encompassing the way Reborn’s current pet is; he’d panic if I did _this_ ,” he arched as a thin tentacle drove in alongside the knot that still had him wedged on his Shark’s cock, “where as you’ll just enjoy it.”

Could feel his Mist watching him, gauging how he'd react, so he bit the tentacle covering his mouth. Hard. Only to be reminded that every mist had a twisted sense of humour when he tasted whisky, rather than blood or ichor or semen. It was even a decent whisky; he wondered what he was going to owe Mammon for it, or if it had just been siphoned directly from his liquor cabinet. He swallowed - it was that or drown in the stuff, which would be an undignified death for Xanxus di Varia - and the intruding tentacle took that as an invitation to push deeper. To fill his throat until he couldn't breathe, till he arched desperate for air, teetering on the edge of his own version of Hyper Dying Will Mode, despite being exhausted.

“The delightful thing about you having a Heat, Boss, is it leaves your body _almost_ as malleable as a Mist’s.” His Shark made a choking noise and the cock in his ass twitched. “And if one is careful, the other Guardians’ bodies can be made _equally_ entertaining.” There was a grin on his Mist’s lips. “Reborn was _very_ pretty during Luce’s heat.” The tentacle in his throat swelled and swelled, still oozing whisky, and he could feel the edge of intoxication from it - and then he realised that even though he couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel the telltale warning signs of anoxia either. Which meant he was even more out of it than he'd realised; he’d have to be for Mammon to have taken control of his body so completely. He tried to break the illusion, wrest control back from his Mist. “Naughty, naughty Boss. You don’t want to be the one in control of your autonomic nervous system while I'm doing this; it'll be a lot less pleasurable fucking your throat if you're panicking about your ability to breath.”

He was going to make his Mist _pay_ for this. Another tentacle forced its way in alongside his Second’s cock. He’d make the fucking Mist bleed, even if he had to recruit the baby-Boss’s Mist to corral his Arcobaleno. His mental snarl was cut short by the way that the tentacle in his throat started to move in an obscene parody of fucking; the Shark’s knot was finally deflating, and the Mist yanked the two of them apart. “Now. Watch this, Boss. The Captain owes me.” There was a distressed noise from his Shark, and then the Rain was being spun over him.

Rain and Cloud Flames flared, and he could see both his Mist’s smirk, and his Second’s scowl as he was stretched above him, ass on display and his hair bundled out of the way. “A little of your slick, Boss, and even when this is done he’ll be a happy little knot-slut.” There was an odd expression on the Arcobaleno’s face. “Luce’s definitely made Reborn happy to be Fon’s pet and Skull’s toy; it’s one of the reasons he hates the two of them quite as much he does. His Flames still want what he can’t have.” He swallows as another few tentacles plunge into his ass, gathering the slick there. He suspected it wasn’t only the Ninth’s pet hitman that missed being an adult.

The one tentacle left in his ass coiled lazily, twitching against his prostate and a handful of other seemingly new sensitive places in his ass, and he watched, tentacle in his throat still muffling any sound he could make as his Mist Officer twisted his Rain’s Flames against him, turned them on him until the Shark was limp in his bonds.

Mammon plunged a dozen thin tentacles into his Shark spreading his ass abruptly _wide_. “Mou. Looks like the Captain plays away from home, Boss; he took that _very_ easily. Naughty boy.” Half the tentacles continued to shove deeper and deeper into his Second, and then the swordsman was being rotated again, the Shark’s stupid hair dropping to veil the two of them so he could _almost_ ignore his Mist’s presence. “Want to see what he’d look like in your place in nine months?” The Rain’s back arched, his cock rapidly refilling with blood as his flat belly stretch taut, bulging until the skin was almost translucent. His own cock responded to the obscene vision; it made his Second look even more androgynous than he normally did, and the resemblance to one of his favourite whores made him swallow around the tentacle fucking his throat.

"Captain, Captain, Captain. What ever shall I do with you." The tentacles beneath his Second's skin _writhed_ , and then his Shark's eyes widened as his knot popped and he came, splattering him with cum, and damn, how had his ass taken _that_ and three of the Mist's half-inch thick tentacles; it was the size of his fucking fist and his hands weren't _small_. "Mou. How dull; I'd expected you to last longer than that, Captain." They dropped his Second off the side of the bed with a 'thump'. "Your turn Boss."

The illusion tangling up his Flames faded, and they surged; his Rain 'felt' sated, and if not unconscious, then close to it. The Mist's Flames met his, and he winced at the Cursed Pacifier and the way it clawed and tore at the Mist; Mammon touched it self-consciously and he resolved to set his Wrath against it. Later. But in the meantime he slid the ragged remnants of his Will between the Mist and the worst of it and watched as his Guardian's posture relaxed. He couldn't meet his Mist's eyes, their hood still in place, but he didn't need to. He'd felt Mammon relax, accept the bond, felt the Mist let it finally heal over the still raw site of the ripped out bond to the Giglio Nero Ottava. He also felt the tentacles ease off, their touch gentling.

"Impressive Boss." The tentacles on his ass tangled, thickening, spreading him wider, rubbing against every sensitive place in his rear until the muscles there started to try to milk them; he could _feel_ the way the fluid oozed into him, slicking his passage even more and filling the place inside him he _still_ didn’t want to think about. One tentacle slid impossibly deep, probing the new place. "One for me, I think. And the Captain's claimed two, too; how greedy of him." That same tentacle stroked somewhere that dragged a whine from his stuffed throat, and a pleased shiver from his Mist at the sensation, but then something made their presence almost _vanish_. "And _oh_ , up to a little larceny, Boss?" His Mist's Flames feel amused and greedy, and he almost pitied the thing - or individual - that had their attention.

He makes an inquisitive noise; it’s the only way he can communicate with the tentacle _still_ fucking his throat and the Mist smirks. "Two little intruders into my Territory whose Skies don't value them enough to have a Heat and claim them." The Mist sniffed. "No. One not valued enough, and one who _can't_ be bound by his assumed Sky." There was a sudden flare of amusement. “Even if you don’t want him Boss, I’m keeping the second one; Lal will owe me for _years_.” The tentacles in his ass pulse, making him shiver, but he flares his Flames; anyone who makes his Mist greedy to keep them would at least be Quality.

“Then I’ll let them in a little closer, rather than diverting them to an oubliette.” The tentacles in his ass stiffened, sliding in and out gently, almost mockingly so, and he snarled; he wasn’t a woman; if his Mist was going to fuck him - he bit down on the tentacle in his mouth again, almost certain that Mammon had them wired into their nervous system, and was rewarded with a tentacle wrapping around his throat and the mass in his ass swelling relentless until it felt like it was going to split him open.

“ _Mine_.” The word is hissed, low in his ear, the Mist’s Flames wrapping around him, his body is protesting the overstimulation and overuse of his Flames, and there’s a riptide of pleasure dragging him under in a sea of tentacles -


	6. Ganauche III's PoV

He's lurking in the infirmary, bored and reading some of the Fourth's Sun Guardian's journals - she was one of the first female Guardians, and definitely more of a researcher than a fighter - when the Varia’s Lightning Officer - Levi A Than, if he remembers correctly - is dragged in by some of his subordinates. Which is strange; the Varia Compound has a perfectly serviceable Infirmary, and at _least_ three competent Suns and two medically minded Mists, all better at healing than Brow Nie Jr, thanks to them _actually_ studying and having a far wider range of injuries to practise on.

Stranger still is the fact the Lightning has Wrath Flame wounds. Xanxus hasn't taken his temper out on his Officers since the Ring Battles. There's little anyone can do for the Officer other than sedate him and figure out what's going on with the Ninth's volatile bastard son; Wrath Flame wounds need a Sky to heal them, preferably the Wrath themselves. It's one of the things that made Secondo such a strong Don, and why people fear Xanxus being turned loose on them.

He yawns, puts the journal back in the secret compartment he broke it out of, and deals with the injuries; he might not be the Ninth’s Sun, but it’s easier just to handle this crap. Not that he has much he can do; Xanxus has made a mess of ‘his’ Lightning - something about that thought is not quite right, and he rechecks the man, finds a Mist-sealed pseudo-bond but no Guardian bond. He shakes his head, sticks an IV in the Lightning's arm, and drags the least skittish of the Lightning's subordinates with him to see the Ninth; there's something peculiar going on with the Varia and he wants to know _what_ \- his abiding sin is most _definitely_ curiousity.

For all the complaints about Xanxus that he'd heard over the years, this didn't make a lick of sense. Yes, 'newly defrosted' Xanxus had had a shitty temper, but he blamed the Ninth for that - he could, he post-dated the Cradle Affair. Why his Boss had not thought to wake the boy up when the brothers he’d spent a decade thinking of as ‘his’ had died, or even to tell him that he wasn’t his natural son _before_ Xanxus had forced his hand, he did not know. The teen had definitely mellowed after the mess with the Rings; something about losing to Tsunayoshi had made him less - he waved his mental hands - if he hadn't known better, he'd have thought the two teens had the early stage of a Cloud-bond. It certainly fitted the description in the Sixth's Lightning's Journals about how his Sky had acquired a Cloud.

The subordinate he was dragging towards the Ninth's Office recovers enough to try and escape him; the electric shock was not a subtle attack and he was actually a little impressed at its strength and the fact the idiot was Flame Active; but he was still an idiot as he seemed to think he was a Sun. Stupid stereotypes - Mists made as good a Flame healer as Suns, and any Flame type could be medically trained. He shook it off, and pushed the man into the Ninth’s Office in front of him.

The three of them - the Ninth, Bouche Croquant, and himself - get very few answers from the Varia mook. Even when the Mist turns his Flames on the man; all of the Varia are Cursed by Mammon for security, and the Arcobaleno considers them telling any non-Varia member _anything_ to do with what's going on in the Compound grounds for the Curse to activate. Perhaps Visconti, who had once been Varia, might have gotten a little more information from the man, but given there was now an illusion of threads stitching the mook's mouth shut which Bouche Croquant can’t break, they allow the man to escape before they do _actual_ damage. But that leaves what little they can figure out by interpolation from the available information - Xanxus throwing around Wrath Flames, an unbonded Varia Officer injured in the Iron Fort's Infirmary, the way the Ninth’s intuition is providing a nebulous warning - and he's not surprised by the order to take Basil and investigate; Schnitten Brabanters is in Germany, and the CEDEF apprentice is a strong enough Rain that if he and Squalo cooperated, they would _probably_ be able to soothe the Wrath’s temper long enough to figure out what the issue was. It couldn’t be a Heat; the boy only had four Guardians at _most_ if his loyal Lightning was only contract-bonded, and it might only be three - no one had claimed _any_ of the Arcobaleno since Luce di Giglio-Nero had died.

But his own Flames are twitchy even before the Ninth actually gives him the order. He finds himself reaching out to his nominal Sky's Flames, wanting reassurance but rebuffed; he might wear the man’s Lightning Ring, have sworn loyalty to the Ninth, but he's not bound the way the others are - his is a Mist contract bond, not a Heat bond or even the precursor to it. The Ninth still mourns his second Lightning, his oldest son's father, doesn't _want_ a replacement, hasn’t allowed himself a Heat since Federico’s birth. Ganauche II’s death is part of why Xanxus is mistrusted by the rest of the Ninth Generation - and that’s the other part of why he's still willing to make his own mind up about the Wrath Sky. Too many of the things done in the wake of the boy's Coup helped the Family in the long run, and every report he'd seen described the boy as wilful and intelligent and determined to keep the Vongola safe and _strong_ , rather than Stupid.

Basil is easy enough to find; the teen prefers to work in the CEDEF liaison's office in the Iron Fort; a recent change that he's been trying to get to the bottom of. The Rain is tight lipped and there's information he's missing - like why the teen can achieve full-blown Hyper Dying Will Mode without being a Sky, what’s caused his sudden increased dislike for the CEDEF's resident Sky and why the CEDEF’s resident Arcobaleno hasn’t dragged him back to the CEDEF’s mansion, but is instead _letting_ him hide - which would probably help him figure the facts out.

Easy enough to talk into accompanying him too; the Ninth can't - officially - give the CEDEF orders, but given the way the Rain shoves the paperwork away when he enters, the teen is glad for the excuse, even if there is a risk of a run in with Xanxus. Some of the paperwork he casts his eyes over look suspiciously like things that Iemitsu should be handling, but given that the Rain shuffles the papers, stuffs them in a safe and grabs a Box - his eyes widen; those are still _very_ rare, most in the Tenth Generation's hands, though there are rumors about the Varia having some, too - and a Ring. He's startled enough by the possible implications of Basil’s possession of the papers _and_ the Box, that the Rain is the one that leads the way down to the garages.

He's still processing all the information he has when Basil applies Ring to Box and lets out a dolphin he murmurs something to; it's only the third or fourth Box animal he's seen, and his fingers _itch_ to touch it, to examine it, but it squeaks and vanishes. "Alfin will check with Bester what's going on, but -" the Rain shivers, something loose and liquid and _appealing_ in the motion, "- Tsuna-sama went into a full Heat last week. It’s possible, I suppose; Tsuna-sama’s Flames -” the little Rain trails off, thoughtfully, his own Flames flaring, the teen quite obviously using them internally for something.

He flares his own Flames; there's _something_ influencing him - possibly a fragment of Mammon's secrecy Curse they’d run up against when interrogating the mook. The thought that the teen next to him - half his age - is attractive, is alien, and his body feels subtly _wrong_. Then the teen's words register and he almost doubles over as a bubble of laughter tries to escape; this is the first he’s heard of the Tenth going into heat, which means the Ninth has no idea, and there's no way Sawada Senior has any idea either - and shit. He's just realised who Basil resembles - which would also explain the ability to enter HDWM - and ow, his head hurts as the implications get tangled together. He'd always assumed that Sawada had just never had a Heat; the man had no Guardians, and Tsuna was definitely Nana's son -

The Varia’s Compound is a smoking, wrecked _mess_. Fortunately it's also a Mist's Territory, so providing the Mist-in-question's Sky was willing to play battery it was going to be fairly easy to fix. That it was a Mist’s Territory was also a problem though; take a step over the boundary line, and they would be stepping _into_ the Mist's game should Mammon be feeling wicked.

Interestingly, there are _two_ Box Animals waiting for them; Basil's dolphin and a large Liger he _assumes_ is the Bester Basil had been referring to earlier, and from it’s appearance, definitely Xanxus's Box Animal. There's no other Varia he can think of whom the Animal would suit better, though the fact that the animal treated them both affectionately, licking and sniffing at them, rather than being territorial and grumpy, set a cat amongst his mental pigeons. Alfin, Basil’s dolphin squeaks, something that makes the CEDEF apprentice blush, and his subconscious notes the accompanying arousal; the Rain holds out his Box, and the dolphin vanishes back into it with a flash of Flames. Bester leads them through the wreckage, disabling several traps, and disrupting the Territory when it tries to curl in on them, lending them enough ‘space’ that he doesn’t _feel_ like he’s being watched. The hair on the back of his neck is certainly not prickling the way it does when Bouche Croquant uses his Mist.

The Compound is eerie, empty, traces of Xanxus’s Wrath _everywhere_ , and splashes of the Officers’ Flames; most were as he expected Lussuria’s Sun, Belphegor’s Storm and Mammon’s Mist all mixed up together, but the stand out, that made him double and triple check what he was seeing, was the fact that Squalo’s Flames had gained a heavy Cloudy edge - which would explain a _lot_ about the swordsman who’d been Xanxus’s for well over a decade at this point; he could read the shape of a running series of teasing, almost playful battles in the traces. One Officer would lead the Sky off, and then another would pop up just before their Sky successfully zeroed in on the first one. Well, at least it was playful on the side of the Officers; on Xanxus’s side, there was equal parts Rage and arousal and he shivered at the idea of the lethal dance the man’s Guardians had been engaged in. Putting the pieces together, including the one that had been handed to him by Basil, and the sensual nature of some of the Flame traces he was ‘reading’ he was left with only _one_ possible conclusion, one that by all rights should be impossible: Xanxus was in _Heat_.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand abruptly on end, and Basil bursts into the flames of HDWM; Mammon’s attention is weighty and threatening, far stronger than he’s ever experienced before - far more powerful than Bouche Croquant’s, despite the curse - but only last for a fraction of a second before it vanishes again. The Liger roared in response, and the Territory shifted subtly. A set of double doors, much like the entrance to the Ninth’s chambers in the Iron Fort are suddenly set in the wall in front of them, and there’s a Mink chittering at them, a - very familiar - Snake looped around the length of its body; the Liger loped off after them, leaving the two of them, their Flames both dancing beneath their skin, isolated in the heart of one of the strongest Mists-in-the-World’s territory.


	7. Lussuria's PoV

Really, Squalo-chan was being so selfish! Boss-honey was in Heat, and they’d _all_ get to take a turn - and Boss-honey had been too awake for his tastes when Squ-chan had used his Flames to knock him and Bel-chan out, anyway; and given how much of his Rain - definitely amplified by his Cloud Flames, and wasn’t Squalo-chan accessing _those_ a fun surprise? - the Captain had used, it was just as well he was a Sun.

And oh, Mammon-chan was being so sweet; Squ-chan passing out on his tentacles was such a pretty sight, and to drop him in his lap; he owed the Mist some strawberries. A show and a toy for him to play with; what more could a girl want? And Squ-chan was all slick and open, too - he fingered the swordsman's hole, feeling how the Mist had wrecked him. He could slide his whole hand in, and Squ-chan barely twitched, despite the way he dragged his nails over tender flesh. In fact Squ-chan was getting even slicker, the crueler he was being to the swordsman’s body. Such fun! Who knew Squ-honey was a masochist?

If it wasn’t for the way Mammon-chan was wrecking Boss-honey, and the fact he could feel how his Sky’s Flames were dragging at his, tempting him into taking Boss-honey next, he’d have had to see just how much Squ-chan’s body would take before it protested his abuse. He pinched Squ-chan’s prostate and cackled softly at the automatic response; even though he’d used his fingernails, Squ-chan’s cock had risen to attention again; he licked the slick - which was delightfully sweet and spicy and to which blood from the damage he’d done made a delightful addition - from his fingers.

If that was an illusion the Mist had used on Squ-chan to keep him so nice and slick, he hoped Mammon-chan might share; he’d fisted the Rain and could probably do so double-handed, and it had just produced even more lubrication. He wanted it used on his other toys; it’d make them so much more willing to let him play his favourite sorts of games.

Perhaps he should use Squ-chan as a puppet; he didn’t see Bel-chan awake yet, and the teen would look _adorable_ on Squ-chan’s cock, especially with the size of Squ-chan’s knot. He made an acquisitive noise, and Mammon-chan, still violating Boss-honey so beautifully with their tentacles turned their head, and tilted it questioningly; when he indicated the general direction of Bel-chan’s limp form, the Mist smirked and dumped the lithe Prince in his lap.

Two toys for him to play with, _and_ Boss-honey so close to passing out; he must have been such a good girl at some point to be getting things all his own way; he did so prefer his partners to at least _start_ a fuck unconcious, their responses to waking up as he dragged an orgasm from them were just _so_ amusing.

Bel-chan was all nice and relaxed still with Rain Flames, and Squ-chan’s cock was lovely and slick still with Boss-honey’s juices, so he could just slide the blond onto Squ-chan’s cock, then poke them both with a little Sun and watch Bel-chan flail himself awake already tied to Squ-chan. It would be funny, and it would make such a lovely mess of Bel-chan.

And oh, Boss-honey had passed out, which made it his turn next! He squealed softly in delight at the thought, and was a little rougher with Squ-chan and Bel-chan than he meant to be; how was he supposed to know that Bel-chan was so tight? The blood trickling down Squ-chan’s cock was adorable, and he wanted to lick it all up, but Boss-honey’s ass was calling him, and Boss-honey needed to be well-fucked if he wasn’t going to turn into a grumpy ball of Wrath and fever. He’d just have to pop Squ-chan’s knot and leave the boys to come round themselves; perhaps he’d roll Boss-honey down the bed a bit so he could watch them?

And Boss-honey was so hot and so slick and so pretty like this; Mammon-chan had floated off, murmuring something about new toys to play with, and left him with Boss-honey at his mercy and Bel-chan just starting to stir on the cock he was impaled on, blood still oozing out of his ass so beautifully - there was a pool of blood and slick under Squ-chan and he’d have to do some careful repair work on Bel-chan later but it was _so_ worth it to watch the two of them.

But mmmm. Boss-honey deserved all his attention; his ass was so lovely and lax and slick and he could ram his cock all the way in; and really, he didn’t need Boss-honey awake. Sun Flames’ property was Activation after all, and triggering Boss-honey’s body into having a few orgasms around his cock was child’s play; he’d let Boss-honey come round just as his knot was about to deflate and in the meantime - he’d fuck Boss-honey’s ass lazily with his knot. It was too lax to make him stay still after all and it was such a lovely sensation making Boss-honey’s body take it over, and over again. And Bel-chan was trying to stab Squ-chan! So good of the boys to play nicely for him; watching them try to kill each other with Bel-chan tied to Squ-chan was so pretty he _had_ to make sure it happened again!

And Mammon-chan had come back with more toys to play with! Mmmm, Iemitsu was going to be so annoyed if they all debauched little Basil-kun and sent the man the video, and the boy was so very pretty - he looked like a blond Tsu-kun with his eyes shut. He _definitely_ wanted a picture of Basil-kun on Boss-honey's cock for later. And the Ninth would be so annoyed if they stole Ganauche and he did need another competent medic in the infirmary! Such fun for them all!


	8. Xanxus and Ganauche's PoVs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two overlapping versions of one whole scene, but I couldn't decide which was better so you get both.

\- the riptide of pleasure ebbs and flows. It’s all consuming, steals his wits and rolls on and on, the sensations from his ass and the curling adoration of his bound Guardians. He’s wrapped up in his Flames and theirs and he gasps, arching, breathing back under his own control and his eyes open on a desperate inhale to meet his Sun’s; his body clamps, abruptly tight around the okama’s cock and his back arches at the sensation. His Flames _roar_ , unsettled, and surge, Raging again.

His Flames meet the okama’s, and he has to wrestle with them before they decide to consume his Sun. He - they - _knew_ about the man’s preferences, hadn’t driven him away they had the Lightning Officer, and that meant he’d _consented_ , damnit; his hand shoots up of its own volition, stilling the Sun, staring into those uncanny eyes and then the bond between them flares back to life.

“Pervert.” The single word is affectionate, and the okama _grins_.

“You were enjoying it, Boss-honey.” Fuck; he had been, and he flops back onto the bed, but not before the noisy fight between his Shark and the Prince registers.

“Lussuria, _what_ did you do?” His Sun attempts to look innocent, but he’d walked in on the okama’s perversions more than once, the man having a particular taste for knocking out homophobic mooks and arranging them for his amusement, and given the noises coming from the two Guardians on the floor it _sounded_ like they were tied together.

“Played with the toys Mammon-chan gave me.” He groaned and shifted, body locked tight around the Sun’s knot now he was awake. “And Mammon-chan brought you two new toys, Boss-honey. We want to keep them, _please_? Basil-kun will be so cute being fucked, and my sugar-senpai is wasted over at the Iron Fort.” One of the okama’s manicured hands wrapped itself around his neglected cock, stroking it gently and he can’t do anything other than surrender to the Sun, and listen to the fight between his Storm and Rain - his Storm was moaning so sweetly with a Sword at his throat that he would _have_ to fuck the Prince later and see what he thought of gunplay. The Sun’s knot deflated, untied the two of them, and the okama made an unhappy sound. “Roll over Boss-honey?” He’s reluctant to do so, but the okama’s Flames are desperate to see whatever they have thought of, and he’s rewarded by his Sun rimming him and healing the damage done so far.

Rims him so well in fact, that he makes a noise that from anyone else would have to be termed a whine when his Sun shifts, pulls back from the enthusiastic tongue-fucking he’d been giving his hole. But there’s soon another cock, broad, so wide that if he hadn’t have been stretched on Mammon’s tentacles he’s not sure he would have managed to take it, even with his ass all slick and loose from the goddamn Heat. But it slides in, impossibly large and deep, stretching _all_ of him, burning, and his Flames surge again; they don’t _know_ the man that has him impaled, but they twine around him and shit, what the fuck was his subconscious _thinking_ that his Flames would want to immolate _his_ Sun, but not whoever this was. His Sun and Mist’s amusement and approval might be part of the explanation. He arches, shifts, tries to get some idea of who has him split open on their cock.

“Stay still, brat.” He knows that voice. He knows he knows that voice, but he can’t think who it is, but his Flames are already burning through what bonds the Electric Sun has and claiming him as _his_. He’s a dragon when it comes to his own, and the man is his, now. Who would his okama call sugar-senpai? Lightning crackles over his skin, and he whimpers at the sensation as the man starts to move, the size of his cock making it feel like he was being turned inside out, despite the way his Mist had stretched him.

“Looks like you need a new code-name, Sugar. Boss-honey’s gotten greedy, and _how_ did the Ninth resist taking that cock of yours out for a spin? I want a go!” His Rage flares, and his Flames _roar_ as he realise who has to be above him,driving their cock in and out of his ass, but the man is a skilled Lightning and his Flames refuse to _actually_ damage his newly harmonised Guardian. And the overstimulation of it all has his ass clenching, desperate even as his brain tries to figure out all the complications from stealing one of the old-man’s men, and the likely response of his crazy-obsessive Lightning Officer to being displaced. The man’s knot inflates _slowly_. Far more slowly than the brutal and sudden stretch of Squalo’s, but it expands and expands until when he tries to move he feels his tailbone shifting disconcertingly and stills.

“I was only suppose to figure out why we had Levi in our infirmary, brat. I wasn’t expecting to find you in Heat, or to come round from your Mist knocking me out, only to find my cock sliding into your pretty ass and my contract-bond to the Ninth gone. Not that I’m complaining, Lussuria.” He spread his legs a little wider, trying to ease the almost painful stretch. “I said stay still, brat. Having to stitch you up because you’ve torn is not my idea of a sexy time; that’s Lussuria’s thing, and you’ve still got two more cocks to take.”

“But Boss-honey looks so pretty stretched out on your cock, sugar, and he’d look even prettier, bleeding.” He _almost_ regretted not letting his Flames consume the okama, but then he caught sight of Squalo _still_ fucking the Prince, his bloody knot forcing the teen’s ass to bulge obscenely as he tried to pull it out and okay, perhaps he could see what the man meant.

The Prince would need Luss’s attention when he was untied, but he was definitely enjoying himself. “Lussuria, if you’ve infected me with your fucking perversions, I am going to _kill_ you.” His ass was trying and failing to milk the cock in his ass, was telling him that it wanted to be taken like that _again_ and goddamn it, he wasn’t going to be able to go back to his complication-free sex, was he? “And stop perving on my fucking ass and fix the Prince before he realises he’s bleeding, or we’re _all_ going to have issues.” He hissed the order and his Sun made an unhappy sound, but complied, sliding off the bed and kneeling beside the two he’d been playing with. Lussuria pushed the Prince forward and pushed Sun Flames into the Storm, and then licked his fingers pointedly. He rolled his eyes, tensed his muscles experimentally and found himself pinned even more firmly beneath the Lightning.

“Should spank you and half your Guardians, brat. You can’t take an order even when it’s intended to preserve your own skin.” He snarls, and the man snorts. “And there was me thinking that you had more of a brain than the old man. What’s a Lightning _supposed_ to do, brat?”

The question makes him think, and thinking makes him go limp beneath the older man, earning himself an appreciative noise. He knew what the common idea of a Lightning’s purpose was, but that question implied there was a more accurate version. “The baby-Boss’s Lightnings get into mischief when he’s about to do something Stupid, distracting him from going through with it.” A hand slides beneath him, appreciatively feeling the shape of his swollen belly - full, he knows, with the cum of his Elements - before making contact with his neglected cock.

“I’ll serve as long as you remember that, brat.” Before he can answer, Ganauche’s hand wraps around his cock, strokes it twice, and there’s a wet patch spreading beneath him. “No trying to kill me for it.” He pants, eyes shut as the orgasm, his body’s attempt to tighten around the knot holding him open makes him wince in pain; fortunately it starts to deflate almost immediately.

“And Xanxus? Basil’s Iemitsu’s natural son.” His blood roars in his head at the thought, at the implication of taking the Rain, and the cock that had split him open was extracted, carefully, fingers probing his open hole and Sun Flames, strong and skillfully directed, coaxing the small tears into closing up. With the older man rolling off him, he could turn, seeing the man’s size and fuck, how the hell had he taken that? If Squalo’s knot was obscene, that cock was twice the width of his _wrist_. (The bit of his head that had though watching Bel’s ass stretching around Squalo’s knot was pretty, wanted to see the Lightning wreck the rest of his Elements.)

* * *

“Roll over Boss-honey?” Lussuria’s voice is wheedling, coaxing and he twitches at the way the Sun - someone he considers a friend, a colleague despite the other members of the Ninth Generation trying to tell him that the Varia are all irredeemably crazy - addresses someone he _assumes_ is Xanxus. That there’s no flare of Wrath, no scream for mercy from the Sun, but rather a creak from the furniture, he assumes from the teen rolling over as requested confuses him; despite his Guardians’ flamboyance, their presence, the scarred teenage Sky is the largest of them, the most muscular; even Squalo, the next tallest is slender and willowy. He’s still working on opening his eyes; Mammon had materialised behind Basil and him, and there’d been nothing they could do to avoid the Arcobaleno’s illusion; he still has a tentacle gagging him, and several others sliding slickly against places he doesn’t really want tentacles.

The tentacles tighten, lifting him, bracing him, and then there’s the tight ring of - he assumes - Xanxus’s asshole stretching around the head of his cock and God he hopes the boy is truly in heat otherwise this was going to be _painful_ for both of them. He manages to open his eyes just in time to watch as Xanxus shudders and tries to spread his legs and fuck, the boy’s taken him to the hilt in a single thrust. Fuck, he’s hot and so tight that all he wants to do is thrust, but - Wrath Flames curl through him, shredding the contract bond, the one forced on him by the Ninth and Bouche Croquant and his Flames purr in delight, reach back to the teen’s, twine round them like a kitten. “Stay still, brat.” He’s going to tear the teen in two if he doesn’t; he’s so tight around him, but he is in Heat, so if they both just hold still, the slickness and their Flames will do their job and he’ll be able to fuck the boy; he’d rather be hung for a sheep as a lamb. The Ninth was going to be less than amused at his defection _anyway_ ; he may as well enjoy all the benefits of being ‘called’ to participate in a Heat first.

He shifts aching slowly, testing the limits and finds - rapidly - that he can fuck the Sky beneath him in a way he’s _never_ been able to fuck anyone but an experienced whore; even if the Ninth tries to lock him in Ice the way he did Xanxus it’d be worth it for this, and he drops his head to mouth at one of the scars on the back of his new Sky’s neck. “Looks like you need a new code-name, Sugar. Boss-honey’s gotten greedy, and _how_ did the Ninth resist taking that cock of yours out for a spin? I want a go!” A Heat twists things; reading the painfully honest accounts of some of the more reluctant past Guardians makes that clear, and he’s quite content to blame that for the fact that he wouldn’t mind bending Lussuria over and taking him if he thought he could do so safely. The okama - or men at all - hadn’t been to his tastes, but.

Xanxus’s Rage flares, though he’s not sure whether it’s about the diminutives he and the teen’s Sun are using, pain from how his ass is being brutalised, because he’s hammering in and out of it now, like a piston, and he can feel the scrape of the teen’s tail-bone against the top of his cock or some combination of the two issues, and he matches his Flames against those of the exhausted Wrath, suborning and thwarting each attempt to damage him. Xanxus _whines_ when his knot starts to inflate, and he’s grateful it’s one of the slower to inflate; it gives him time to press as deeply into the boy as he can, and he feels things shift to make way for him, even as the glorious sensation of being milked tries to steal his wits. The teen’s Flames flare; he can read the interrogative in them, and decides to answer. “I was only suppose to figure out why we had Levi in our infirmary, brat. I wasn’t expecting to find you in Heat, or to come round from your Mist knocking me out, only to find my cock sliding into your pretty ass and my contract-bond to the Ninth gone. Not that I’m complaining, Lussuria.” He swore internally as Xanxus tried to shift beneath him, and pinned the boy more effectively; he was _not_ into stitching up his sex partners once they were done. “I said stay still, brat. Having to stitch you up because you’ve torn is not my idea of a sexy time; that’s Lussuria’s thing, and you’ve still got two more cocks to take.”

“But Boss-honey looks so pretty stretched out on your cock, sugar, and he’d look even prettier, bleeding.” If he could have reached the okama without tearing the boy on his cock, he’d have hit him for that. They had had that discussion, and the Sun _knew_ that wasn’t something he enjoyed. And that probably meant he was the one responsible for the state of the blond being fucked by Squalo.

“Lussuria, if you’ve infected me with your fucking perversions, I am going to _kill_ you.” Xanxus hissed, and he let more of his weight pin the boy to the bed in case he tried to move; but his new Sky was blushing faintly, eyes fixed on the scene on the floor. Not that he minded too much, not when most of his attention was taken up by the sensations of the boy’s ass trying to milk him.“And stop perving on my fucking ass and fix the Prince before he realises he’s bleeding, or we’re _all_ going to have issues.” The order was hissed and Lussuria made an unhappy sound, but complied, sliding off the bed and kneeling beside the two he’d been playing with. He kept an eye on the three on the floor as the Sun pushed the Prince forward and used his Flames on the Storm Officer, before licking his fingers pointedly. Xanxus tensed, possibly in response and he cursed mentally.

“Should spank you and half your Guardians, brat. You can’t take an order even when it’s intended to preserve your own skin.” Xanxus snarls in response to his comment, and he snorts in amusement. “And there was me thinking that you had more of a brain than the old man. What’s a Lightning _supposed_ to do, brat?” He knows damn well the teen below him has a brain; has read the two dissertations he wrote before the Cradle Affair and refuses to believe that he’s as Stupid as everyone implies. He’d called to, and bonded him, he should _know_ the answer to this question.

Xanxus goes limp beneath him, and his Flames ‘feel’ like he’s seriously considering the question, which he appreciates. “The baby-Boss’s Lightnings get into mischief when he’s about to do something Stupid, distracting him from going through with it.” He slides a hand beneath Xanxus, intent on rewarding him for that answer, appreciatively feeling the shape of the boy’s swollen belly, half wishing he could have done this in a different position so he could admire the state of the Wrath, before wrapping his hand around the long, hard cock he knows has been being neglected.

“I’ll serve as long as you remember that, brat.” Before Xanxus can answer, he strokes him roughly, demanding his orgasm from him; when he gets it, he murmurs. “No trying to kill me for it.” in the boy’s ear, and enjoys the way he tries to strangle his cock as he convulses through his orgasm. Fortunately his knot deflates and he goes flaccid before he tears Xanxus _too_ much.

Might as well be hung for a dozen sheep as a lamb; it’s not like it’s _that_ much of a secret about his companion's parentage. “And Xanxus? Basil’s Iemitsu’s natural son.” He takes the opportunity offered by the distraction of Xanxus’s Flames reaching greedily for the little Rain to pull out _carefully_. There’s some blood on his cock, and he probes the teen’s ass carefully, his Sun Flames seeping into the few small tears from the way Xanxus had tried to tighten too much around his cock; they’re easy enough to fix, and he also can feel the six hard little knots of Flames just establishing themselves within the Wrath’s body and his cheeks heat at how Sunny three of them feel; even if only one’s his, he’d never expected even that.

There’s a choked noise from Xanxus, a disbelieving sound, and he’s almost tempted to preen as he realises the teen is looking at his cock. Damn thing is more a nuisance than a pleasure most of the time but had been a _delight_ with the Wrath as he’d been able to take it. He winces when he hears Lussuria mumble about wanting to see Basil take his cock though; he’ll have to put his foot down with the other Sun and insist that consent is as sexy to him as blood is to the okama. Xanxus had more than a foot in height and close to a hundred pounds on the CEDEF apprentice, and if he'd torn the Wrath, the likelihood of him being able to fuck the Rain safely was slim, though he was tempted, and damn the Heat really had twisted the inside of his head to be thinking that.


	9. Belphegor's PoV

He’s just got the Shark-peasant where he can stab him _properly_ for the cock up his ass (it’s not _right_ , a Prince being taken by a mere peasant, even if the peasant was the Boss’s favourite. Princes fuck, they aren’t _fucked_ and why did it feel good, damn it? It wasn’t _suppose_ to feel good; he squirmed, and the knot shifted again, burning and painfully enjoyable) when the perverted peasant pinched his neck and pressed him back down to the Shark’s chest and pushed _fingers_ into his ass alongside the knot wedging him open.

The fingers radiated Sun Flames and he wriggled uncomfortably, earning him a hissed threat from the shark-peasant and a murmured “Boss-honey’s orders, Princeling,” from the pervert-peasant and he grumbled. Boss was a Sky, and Skies were Royalty. He’d subordinated himself to the Boss, given him his fealty and that meant he was suppose to follow his Sky’s orders. He held still and palmed a knife though whatever the pervert was doing made the shark- peasant’s knot deflate, and he would deny the unhappy noise he made as a result.

He very much didn’t like the empty feeling that the shark-peasant’s cock softening and slipping free resulted in, but the pervert-peasant caught the swing of his knife and bore him down long enough for the shark-peasant to escape, and then there was a tongue being applied sloppily to his hole, and more Sun Flames, and the pervert-peasant could keep doing that! It stung, but felt - he squirmed - good anyway. He turned his head and watched the shark-peasant contemplate the limp form of the CEDEF-peasant who currently looked _very_ much like the First Vongola, even if he felt decidedly like a Rain; but the withdrawal of the tongue working his ass drew his attention back and the pervert-peasant chuckled.

“Boss-honey’ll be ready for you to plant your Principessa in him soon. Sugar-senpai just needs to fix the damage Boss-honey did to himself on his cock.” He makes an annoyed sound at the cessation in the pleasuring of his body and tried to stab the pervert-peasant again for both taking liberties with his Royal self _and_ then stopping without permission. The pervert-peasant dodged the stab again, laughing, and he caught sight of the Boss, all debauched, lazing like a king on his bed, and the man next to him with a cock that would have looked right at home on the Stallion he’d ridden in royal processions before he’d killed his brother.

He climbed up on the bed and ignored the peasants; the Boss’s Flames had tried to latch onto the little Rain but they’d slid off given the boy’s unconsciousness, and had found him instead. He slid his cock straight into the Boss’s slick ass and the other teen purred lazily at the sensation, and dragged him down for a biting kiss, stopping just shy of making him taste his own blood. “Shishishishi, good choice Boss.”

He petted the Boss’s swollen belly; it was so pretty! And if the Boss was going to get pregnant from this, perhaps it would be appropriate to call the Boss ‘Queen’. He’d certainly fit his mental picture - other than the male form of course. He giggled at the idea, and at the Boss’s likely reaction to him doing so. The fight would be so much fun! Even if the others would drag him off before he could hurt the heirs. Not that they would be good heirs if they couldn't survive him trying to kill their mama - he had at least three scars from his mama being stabbed and it hadn’t hurt him - but he wouldn’t be able to explain that to the others. Not while they objected to stabbing-as-affection, anyway.

The Boss’s Flames _roared_ through him when his balls made contact with the slick curve of the Boss’s ass and he shivered at the threat implicit in them, and his knot popped at how close they came to consuming him before they pulled back, wrapping around him and claiming him instead. Red eyes met his, his fringe no barrier and he giggled, “Shishishishi, Boss is pretty and dangerous, just like the Prince’s Queen should be!”

Flames lick over his skin, the Boss’s eyes boring into his, and he finds himself below the Boss, a hand closing tight around his throat, cutting off the air to his lungs, and he could only grin. The light-headedness, his life in his Queen’s hands was exactly how conceiving his Heirs should be and he strained against the large hand holding him down. Of course the Boss still ground down on his cock, his body milking him of what it needed to make his Principessa and he enjoyed the way the world went dark as his body was starved of oxygen; his Flames would stop this killing him and in the meantime he went limp and enjoyed the pleasure.

Perhaps he _would_ let the peasants do all the work in future. He was enjoying his Queen’s attention, but his ass felt slick and hollow and like it should be full of a cock. And it had been such easy pleasure when the shark-peasant had been fucking him.

The hand on his throat eases off just before the world goes more than grey around the edges, and he takes a gasping breath. “You’re just as much of an idiot-pervert as my Sun, aren’t you, my Storm.” The hand tightens again. “Is this why you called me Queen, so I’d do this to you?” He’d nod, but the hand is too tight; all he can do is flare his Flames in delight at how roughly he’s being treated by his chosen Queen, that conceiving his heir was being done with such pleasurable violence.

Xanxus pants, leaning over him, and he bucks as best as he can when the hand on his throat eases off again; the two of them spend twenty minutes that way, the hand closing repeatedly, cutting off his air, his Queen grinding down on his knot and repeating until it deflated and Xanxus snarled, climbing off his body and leaving him a wreck in the pile of pillows, a Queen still seeking pleasure. He grins and giggles to himself, quite happy about the painful ring of bruises around his throat. And his Queen stalking across the room to yank the little CEDEF-peasant out of the shark-peasant’s lap - with the resulting snarl from the Shark and the wail from the Rain as the shark’s bite to his shoulder tore the skin - made him want to go again. But not on the new Lightning’s cock; he wasn’t ready for something that big; as slick and open as he feels, courtesy of the Shark-peasant’s cock, he doesn't think he could take it. Yes, his Boss had, but Queens were _special_.


	10. Basil and Xanxus's PoV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same drill as Chapter 8; I'm being indecisive, so you get both versions.

The last thing he remembered - before he woke up in Squalo-sama’s lap, the man’s cock thrusting absently against his back - was the sight of Mammon-sama grinning at them from beneath their hood. There’d been a tangle of tentacles, and the sweet smell of chloroform, and he owed his senpai about three hundred euros. She’d warned him that he was going to find his recent curiosity coming back to bite him, though she probably hadn’t meant that statement quite _this_ literally. Or for Squalo-sama to be the one doing the biting, for that matter. And to be doing the biting while he watched Xanxus-dono strangling Belphegor-sama, much to his Storm’s apparent pleasure.

The report about his nii-sama’s Heat hadn’t mentioned anything like this, though it had been written by his nii-sama’s tutor, and the hitman hadn’t been in a position - by his own admission - to see everything in the ‘flesh’ so to speak. What had been detailed in the report had left him blushing and envious about his nii-sama’s status as a Sky; yes, their mutual parent had raised him, but he hadn’t been anywhere as good a parent as Nana-hime had been to his nii-sama, and with everyone assuming he was his ‘father’s’ Rain, he wouldn’t get to experience a Heat - not that there had been any Sky Heats since he and his sister had been born.

Except here he was. Right in the middle of the Heat of perhaps the most dangerous Sky there was, with the teeth of the Xanxus-dono’s Second, the Wrath’s favourite, buried in the meat of his shoulder, and Xanxus-dono himself stalking towards him, red eyes alight and cock erect and this wasn’t the accepted script for a Sky’s Heat; they were so far off it that he was left flailing, mentally. A Sky was _supposed_ to have already bonded their Guardians, was _supposed_ to lay there passively and if necessary grit their teeth and take the breeding and the other Guardians weren’t supposed to be fucking each _other_! And then there was a tearing pain in his shoulder as he was lifted away from Squalo-sama without the swordsman releasing his bite, and then he was being forced down onto Xanxus-dono’s cock and he wailed in combination of pleasure and pain as the larger teen licked at the wound in his shoulder. There was the wildness of Xanxus-dono’s Flames, too, snapping at his, winding around them, a knife edge threat, and he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t -

“Boss-honey,” he recognised that voice though, he couldn’t think of their name and they were brave using that nickname for Xanxus-dono, “Boss-honey, he needs some of your slick if you’re going to insist on fucking him before he fucks you. Yes, it’s very pretty the way you’ve just made him bleed, and your Flames have him enjoying it, but you’ve almost certainly torn him badly, and you want to be able to fuck him again later, right?” The voice is wheedling, but the cock in his ass, the cock splitting him open, hurting him and pleasuring him, making it hard to think withdraws, and fingers replace it, radiating Sun Flames. He squirms, Flames intoxicated by the Wrath Sky’s, and then he’s balanced on his tip-toes, bent forward, upper body on a bed and the cock was back, shoving in, but more slickly this time, without the sharp burning pain that had come from the first thrust. “See, isn’t that easier, Boss-honey?”

He panted, overwhelmed, the Wrath’s Sky’s Flames still dancing through his system, still twining through his Flames and he didn’t understand, couldn’t do anything other than focus on the large cock that had riven him in two, and the tongue and teeth worrying at the bloody wound in his neck. “Boss-honey, as much fun as you’re having,” there’s murmurs from next to him, two sets of flaring Sun Flames, and then the voice - he finally identified it as Lussuria-sama’s, though that took what little ability to think he had, “he needs to cum _in_ you in the next couple of hours or you’re going to feel like you did after this one’s fluffy nii-chan froze you.”

“Shut-up trash.” Xanxus-dono’s voice is dangerous, but his Flames are curled around his at this point, the blatant desire and affection in complete contrast to the verbal aggression. “Go make my Shark ride my new Lightning - tell him I know who he plays with when he comes back to the Compound limping - and leave me to fuck Iemitsu’s oldest brat in peace. He knows better than to cum before I tell him to, anyway, don’t you, spice-trash?” He whines and nods, the Wrath Flames wrapped around him demanding his compliance. “Good.”

Lussuria-sama flounces off, and he’s left alone with Xanxus-dono, whose tongue has already returned to worrying more blood from the ragged tear in his shoulder, the other teen’s cock sliding increasingly easily in and out of his ass, angle shifting slowly as if he’d looking for something, and he rocks up on his toes, desperately clawing for his Rain Flames to numb the urgency, the sudden insistent that he needed to cum from the new sensation. There’s an amused chuckle from the much larger teen pinning him to the bed.

There’s a yelp and an appreciative moan from the direction that Lussuria-sama had flounced off in, and a “Oh my, Squ-chan, who have you been fucking? Can I watch next time?” That leaves his cheeks flushed where they’re hidden against the bedding; he’s watched footage of the Cavallone Decimo fisting Squalo-sama in preparation for making the swordsman take his over-sized cock . It had been his introduction to male-male sex - a mission to investigate anyone the Varia might be conspiring with - and had left him feeling grossly inadequate until he realised just how over-endowed Dino-dono was.

“Keep your eyes on my Shark, and remember you’re not allowed to cum, or to pop your knot, spice-trash.” The hissed comment is the only warning he gets before his head is forced to turn so he _has_ to watch as Ganauche-sama slides a cock at _least_ as big as Dino-dono’s - possibly even bigger with the way Squalo-sama was flaring his Flames, half in distress, half in delight - in and out of the other Rain, and he blushes. Then there’s a large, calloused hand wrapped around his neglected cock, squeezing tight around the site of his knot would pop from, and his ass is being _brutalised_. Hard, lunging thrusts that rock him on his toes, sending sparking pleasure coursing through his veins, makes him flail and struggle for the control Xanxus-dono was demanding from him. “You’re a damn good fuck for a virgin to anal, brat.” There was an amused sound from the Sky. “And you’re going to have to work on that blush or the rest of my Guardians will treat you as their personal whore; and as you’re Quality enough to be acceptable to my Sky, that’d be a waste of your talents.”

He shrieked as Xanxus-dono bit into the other side of his neck from the wound, a sharp point of pain in contrast to the pleasure from his ass, and he came, dry, muscles desperately trying to clamp down on Xanxus-dono’s cock. He was rewarded with several pulses of scorchingly hot, slick cum being added to the slick his ass had already produced, courtesy of Lussuria-sama’s intervention, and a _need_ that only made him want to whimper at its strength.

“Well done brat. But I haven’t given you permission to cum yet.” Large hands drag him up onto the bed proper, and the there’s Xanxus-dono over him, lining up his slick, open passage with his cock and it feels so good to be buried in the older teen’s body, the waiting threat of the Sky Flames vanishing in a brilliant moment of conflagration that left him inexorably tied to Xanxus-dono, and wouldn’t that make his father turn _green_. The bastard deserved it, and he reached for the Sky taking him, trying to follow the accepted script for Heat again, now that his Sky had bonded him, but Xanxus-dono bared his teeth, and set a bruising pace, riding him ruthlessly hard.

He whimpered and held off his orgasm by the skin of his teeth until there was a barked ‘Now’ and a flare of Sky Flames and then his knot had the two of them tied together, Xanxus-dono’s body milking him of _everything_ in his balls, and his new Sky slumped, heavy on top of him, limp, his Heat finally sated. There was very little he could do about wriggling free; he was pinned under close to two hundred pounds of his new Sky. There wasn’t much else he could do other than sleep - which as his head was still sore and fuzzy after the earlier chloroform, wouldn’t be hard - and wait for Xanxus-dono to wake and decide what he was going to do _next_.

* * *

He rolled easily off the bed, leaving his idiot-Storm - at least as perverse as his Sun, if the other teen thought he was going to get away with calling _him_ , ‘Queen’ without getting his ass kicked repeatedly - to recover from how ruthlessly he’d been edging him, and stalked across the room to where his Shark-trash was tormenting the spice-brat. And Iemitsu’s _natural_ son, was he? The CEDEF-scum would go ballistic if he stole the Rain, and as the Shark was being affectionate - or as affectionate as the Shark got with anyone other than him - his Shark didn’t see him as a threat to their already established bond. And there was nothing stopping him establishing his dominance and taking the spice-brat the way he _wanted_ to before he rolled over for him.

It was fairly simple to drag the brat away from his swordsman, even if that did leave the Shark with a sore mouth from having it _ripped_ out of the brat’s shoulder - and fuck, the brat was all of a hundred pounds soaking wet; what was it with Iemitsu and breeding midgets? He could lift the brat one handed, and ramming his cock into the brat and flooding him with enough Flames to stop him resisting too much - he wasn’t his pervert Sun, who liked the fight - was simply a matter of brute strength, and fuck, the brat was tight and hot and he was going to have to keep him in his bed. The brat’s wail, so like the baby-Boss’s when their Storms had fought only made this hotter.

He bent his head and licked at the wound in the brat’s shoulder, nursing at it, demanding it bleed more, burning out every tentative claim that anyone had on the brat; he’d be _his_ and no-one else’s. He demanded and the brat’s Flames writhed under the weight of his, surrendering, soothing, and the brat was more than just a Classic Rain given the way he was responding to his demands, but that would have to be investigated _later_. Once he’d had his fill of the brat’s ass.

“Boss-honey,” he turns his head and snarls blindly at his pervert of a Sun. Can’t the Okama see he’s claiming the brat, that he didn’t want to share? The spice-brat felt _so_ good wrapped around his cock, slick, and hot and tight and he just wanted to fuck him. “Boss-honey, he needs some of your slick if you’re going to insist on fucking him before he fucks you. Yes, it’s very pretty the way you’ve just made him bleed, and your Flames have him enjoying it, but you’ve almost certainly torn him badly, and you want to be able to fuck him again later, right?” He wanted to snarl at the way his pervert of a Sun groped him, gathering some of the slick from his ass. He wanted to fuck the brat now, but the okama was right, and he could feel the way the brat hurt beneath the blanket of his Flames, could smell the blood. He pulled out, impatient, and let the trash doctor the spice-brat’s ass so he could abuse it more; the way the brat squirmed as the okama probed the tiny little hole he’d forced himself into, the sudden sweetening of the brat’s scent, and he gave into his impatience, yanking him away from the okama and stabbing his cock back into the brat. He’s _his_. “See, isn’t that easier, Boss-honey?”

It is, but he can’t be bothered to say anything; not when he has a squirming little blond clone of the baby-Boss under him, ass and Flames _begging_ to be brutalised; he rams his cock in and out of the teen a half-dozen times, mouth worrying at the wound the Shark had made, enjoying the way the brat whines and begs before his okama’s words break back through again. “Boss-honey, as much fun as you’re having,” His new Lightning trash says something to the okama, though he doesn’t hear what’s said, “he needs to cum _in_ you in the next couple of hours or you’re going to feel like you did after this one’s fluffy nii-chan froze you.”

“Shut-up trash.” He snarled at the interfering okama. He _knew_ how this worked; just because he’d thrown a tantrum because he hadn’t _wanted_ to didn’t mean he wouldn’t make the aftermath of this as easy on himself as he could. Part of his brain had already started to redraw the mission rotas to keep his Officers close to him, in easy reach for when the need rose again. “Go make my Shark ride my new Lightning - tell him I know who he plays with when he comes back to the Compound limping - and leave me to fuck Iemitsu’s oldest brat in peace. He knows better than to cum before I tell him to, anyway, don’t you, spice-trash?” The brat whines and nods, his Flames completely submissive to the Wrath Flames he had wrapped around the brat, and was using to demand his compliance. “Good.” And his Shark would enjoy the challenge of riding his new Lightning; he’d watched the Shark riding the horse-trash when they were younger, when he’d wanted to know where his newly sworn Rain had been doing to come home _covered_ in traces of another Sky and discovering that it was because his second was a slut for a large cock had been amusing.

His Sun flounces off, and he turns his attention back to the brat beneath him; if anything the okama’s intervention had made the ass he was fucking feel even better. It was just as hot, just as tight, but was slicker, easier to violate; each squeak from the spice-brat came with a sucking, milking sensation that was exceedingly enjoyable, and he shifted his angle of attack gradually until the brat’s Flames _flared_ , a desperate bid for control and he pinned the brat down, chuckled and rammed in harder, hitting that spot again.

He’s not surprised when there’s a yelp and an appreciative moan from the direction that his Sun had flounced off in, and a “Oh my, Squ-chan, who have you been fucking? Can I watch next time?” The fact that it was _that_ which had made the tiny Rain under him blush was adorable; did he have a little voyeur impaled on his cock? There was an easy way to find out.

“Keep your eyes on my Shark, and remember you’re not allowed to cum, or to pop your knot, spice-trash.” The hissed comment is the only warning he gives the brat before forcing him to move so he has to watch what’s going on. Has to watch as his new Lightning makes his second take his cock. As his shark-trash slides down it until his ass rests in the cradle of the older man’s hips, and his Shark is squirming, Flames flaring in pseudo-distress, but body having swallowed it eagerly with none of the tearing that would have inflicted on a less ‘experienced’ rider. Though judging by the way his Second was wriggling and the colour of the overstretched skin around that cock, his Lightning might be bigger than the horse-trash was. His Shark’s howl of indignation when the man’s knot popped was going to be amusing.

Grinning, he wraps one hand tightly around the brat’s cock, reminding him that he wasn’t to cum, and set himself to fucking the pretty little ass wrapped around his cock. Hard, lunging thrusts that rocked the brat up on his toes, intended to make him flail and struggle for the control he’d demanded that the brat exert over himself.. “You’re a damn good fuck for a virgin to anal, brat.” He hisses the words in the brat’s ear, half warning, half intent to try the brat’s _excellent_ self-control. “And you’re going to have to work on that blush or the rest of my Guardians will treat you as their personal whore; and as you’re Quality enough to be acceptable to my Sky, that’d be a waste of your talents.”

The brat shrieks as he bites him on the other side of his neck from the wound the Shark had inflicted, a sharp point of pain in contrast to the reaming of his ass, and the brat came, dry, his muscles desperately trying to milk the cock brutalising his body and he rewarded the brat with several pulses of scorchingly hot, slick cum. It made the brat whimper and squirm, and he was sorely tempted to fuck him again. “Well done brat. But I haven’t given you permission to cum yet.” He drags the brat up onto the bed properly, kicks his idiot Storm out of the way, and slides himself onto the brat’s cock, releasing his Flames to do what they _willed_ ; he’d erased all of the CEDEF-scum’s claims on the brat, made sure he was fit to be his. They’d either kill the brat or make it so he could keep him, and he’d deny to his last breath that he cared either way.

The bond took, and he bared his teeth, a victorious snarl as the brat tried to reach for him, and pinned the brat’s hands, riding him ruthlessly, setting a brutal pace and imagining the way the CEDEF-scum would _rage_. It would be almost as fun as having to watch his father explain how his ‘son’ had stolen one of his Guardians.

The brat whimpered, still obeying his demand that he hold off his orgasm - by the skin of his teeth, given the way his Flames were twitching, and there was a flash of that _other_ again - until he barked ‘Now’ and flared his Flames and the brat’s knot popped, tying the two of them together, and a wave of exhaustion crashed over him as his body set to milking the brat of _everything_ in his balls, and he slumped on top of the brat, a deliberate measure to stop him wriggling free. He’d been serious about the brat being very, very tempting for the rest of his Guardians; he could feel the way they _all_ wanted to wreck the brat, and he was being selfish. That and despite how skinny the brat was, he was comfortable; he was like Bester. He liked having his toys close to hand when he napped.


	11. Squalo's PoV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overlaps with the last chapter as people wanted to see Ganauche and Squalo XD

"Voooiii, what -" and fuck, greedy shitty-Boss just had to be impatient about having the CEDEF brat all to himself. His jaw hurt _and_ he had a Lightning looking at him like he was the tastiest thing he’d seen in a long while. Shit.

"It's a very badly kept secret who you play with Squalo." Ganauche - Nono's Lightning but apparently now the shitty-Boss's - murmured in his ear. "I can even tell you the last time you visited my cousin. His mood noticeably improves every time you sneak in to ride him." He freezes, wary eyes on his shitty-Boss; his Sky is possessive as fuck, but he's been Dino's friend even longer than he's been Xanxus's Rain and he doesn't want to deal with this clusterfuck. "We're in the middle of a Heat and your Sky requested a show we're perfectly capable of giving him. So are you going to do this the easy way or the hard way, Squalo?"

"Easy," he grinds out between gritted teeth.

"Good. I'm going to lay down and you can work your way down my length as slowly as you like, providing I get all the way in." The Lightning does just that, his cock well over a foot long and at least as wide as Dino’s and fuck, he doesn't want to know how big the knot he's going to find popping in his ass is going to be. But his shitty-Sky is watching, as is Iemitsu's wide eyed eldest son, pinned beneath Xanxus and he sinks down that impossible length. He's so slick from the shitty Heat, so stretched by their fucked-up miser Mist’s tentacles that although he can't breath with the stretch and it rearranges his insides in a way that normally takes Dino's Flames to fix, it drags a moan from him. His Flames flare too, half distress, half desire, not knowing how to deal with this without the careful work up his normal partner engages in, but he's sat in the cradle of Ganauche's hips and his cock is hard again. And Lussuria is fluttering around them both, cooing appreciatively at the sight.

“Oh my, Squ-chan, who have you been fucking? Can I watch next time?” There’s a definite leer in the okama’s voice and his fingers itch for his Sword; he’s not taking the pervert _anywhere_ near Dino, his Cloud Flames flaring viciously at the thought, despite them not minding sharing Xanxus with the Sun. Fuck. Ganauche makes an amused sound; tugs on his hair, bucks his hips slightly, drags his attention back to the older man.

  
"Ignore Luss, Squalo. He’s just baiting you. Now are you going to ride, or am I going to roll you beneath me and see _just_ how well trained my cousin has managed to get you." He hesitates a moment too long and the Lightning grins. He can see the man's relationship to Dino then, and fuck. He's _fast_ ; has him beneath himself before he can stop the roll. "I know you've actually managed to _take_ my cock, Squalo, but don't fight my Flames; I'm going to do something so I can _use_ this ass the way it _should_ be taken." Lightning and Sun Flames seep into his body.

The pace Ganauche - he'll need a new _Varia_ name - sets once his Flames 'take' is brutal; all he can do is clench his ass with the thrusts. The fact he can even do that he puts down to ten years of playing with Dino's cock, and the Lightning grins at him. "Oh he does have you well trained, doesn't he, Squalo." An amused sound slips his throat as he realises they're still being watched by Basil; Xanxus has a fist in the pretty little thing’s hair, and has him pinned, has whispered something in his ear, and he watches appreciatively as his Sky’s large and bloody cock wrecks the boy.

Xanxus and Ganauche seem to be having a competition as to who can use their partner harder and he snorts in amusement. The cock up his ass might be enormous, but he’d bet the boy had been a virgin when Xanxus had impaled him. He’d certainly wailed like one when the shitty-Boss had broken him, and it had been a very pretty noise, so like the baby-Boss’s when Bel and Gokudera had been facing off against each other, and the pair of idiots had nearly ended up dead.

“Watching you and Dino fuck was Basil’s introduction to sex; he was twelve, I think. The Ninth shouted at Iemitsu for setting him to trailing you; the boy wasn’t suppose to be out of training yet, and I had to give him the ‘talk’ and I felt _filthy_ afterwards because all I wanted to do was demonstrate how much fun sex was and he wasn’t even legal yet.” A tongue traces the shell of his ear, and the man pinning him to the floor continues speaking. “Wonder if I’ll be able to talk Xanxus into letting Basil off his cock long enough to show him just why you were riding my cousin so happily.” He swallows as the shitty-Lightning plowing his ass - and damn the man was doing a good job of fucking him - planted the image of the _tiny_ blond tied up and taking the cock currently brutalising his own ass. (Which also led to one of the baby Boss under his shitty-Sky and damn, was that a pretty sight.)

There was a triumphal noise from the bed and another one of those sounds so like the baby-Boss’s, and his shitty-Sky was impaling himself on the brat’s cock, claiming the boy, and it was going to be hilarious watching Iemitsu realise what had happened, what Xanxus had been doing to his eldest; the man was going to blow his top. The baby-Boss was just going to be amused though; he’d dragged in the crazy-fucking Electric Sky he’d been fighting less than six months earlier in his personal timeline as his Lightning. He couldn’t say _anything_ about weird fucking choices for Heat partners, and the kid was so fucking affectionate towards anyone he had a claim on, that he suspected that as long as Basil was visibly enjoying himself, the baby-Boss was just going to want to spoil the brats currently growing in Xanxus’s belly rotten and play doting uncle, rather than protest the way Basil was being ‘used’.

“I’m knotting you when Basil’s knot finally pops, Squalo. You’ll want to have your Flames ready, unless you’re a painslut as well as a size queen; I nearly snapped the ligaments that hold Xanxus’s pelvis together when I tied him; there’s a bit more work his Flames will need to do to make it safe for him to give birth. His hips need to spread just a touch, had already started to, but yours haven’t so this may _hurt_.” That’s the only warning he gets; the shitty Boss crumples, obviously done, and then Ganauche lunges, cock punching so deep into him, that the air is knocked out of his lungs and he tries to scramble away from the stretch as the knot expands, keeps expanding and expanding, until when he looks down he’s not far off the state Mammon had him in earlier, but that’s when the endorphins kick in and it’s all he can do to lay there and let his body attempt to milk the thing impaling him. S’actually kinda nice, Ganauche’s as Sun-warm as Dino as he curls around him.

He’s out of it enough that watching Lussuria eye Bel’s Boss-fucked limp body - the Storm having passed out on the bed, just seems like an amusing display, like he and Ganauche were a live-floor show for the shitty-Boss. Hopeful the Sun remembers the rules about letting Bel see his own blood, though the okama is more likely to just use the Prince’s limp body for his own pleasure at this point; but he can’t see their miser of a Mist anywhere. He’d investigate but he’s as high as a fucking kite on endorphins, his Cloud Flames multiplying them and tied to the shitty-Boss’s new Lightning - who is _playing_ with his hair, for fucks sake.

“Mou, having fun Captain?” Think of the shitty-Mist, and they appear. “You certainly seem to have a thing for Cavallone men; this is the second one I’ve seen you ride.” He whimpers, and Ganauche somehow kisses the back of his neck; fuck. The gesture makes him _melt_.

“I’d pay good money for any footage of my little cousin taking him, Mammon.” The cock in his gut twitches, pulses, and fuck, he was going to have to deal with Ganauche fixating on _him_ wasn’t he. He had the shitty Varia to run and he was going to have deal with a shitty-fixated Lightning. Fuck. “Especially from when they were first fucking, or anything with him being mounted like a mare in heat.”

“Mou. €100.000 for their rather messy first time; €200.000 for their most recent - and _pretty_ \- attempt at breeding Squalo. The accessories were … amusing.” He attempts to concentrate enough to summon his sword so he can take a swipe at the shitty Mist floating just out of reach.

“The contract price for the first two missions I run as a Varia Officer, and I get the originals of _everything_ you’ve filmed.” There’s an ominous little smile on Mammon’s lips now.

“If you want _everything_ that’ll cost you the first _year’s_ pay, and half of your severance package from the Ninth’s ‘services’.” There’s an amused snort from the man he’s still impaled on.

“I’m not on the standard contract with the Ninth. I’d say you’re welcome to _all_ of my severance package, but that wouldn’t be a _sensible_ way to treat the Esper, Viper. My new colleague.” The Mist floated closer, feeling almost puzzled, and Ganauche laughs. “Five missions, and that’s my offer.”

“Deal. And Captain, the Compound is secure with the standard conditions.” The Mist Arcobaleno’s lips quirked, mind obviously having almost put together the pieces. “Dino has your Family back on a sound financial footing, yes?”

“Very. He can even afford the price for my ‘desertion’.” He puts the pieces together himself. Dino, Reborn, the Cavallone’s finances and how easily the Ninth had found a competent replacement Lightning after the Cradle Affair.

“Mou,” the Mist Arcobaleno’s lips twisted in distaste. “Five missions and the details of your ‘contract’ with the Ninth. I will use it punish the man.”

“Agreed.” He finds an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, shifting him slightly on the fucking enormous knot still lodged in his ass, and he allows the endorphins to multiply again. It was the only way he was going to keep tolerating how brutally stretched he was being by the man’s knot. Fucking wonderful things, endorphins. Best thing in the fucking world.

“The recordings will be on your Varia phone when I issue it, and I will destroy the original hard drive when you complete the missions. Enjoy the Captain’s pretty ass, Niccola Cavallone.” The little Mist floated away, and he went back to getting high off his own body chemistry. He could get really fond of his new Flames.

“My little cousin and I will have to negotiate about access to this pretty ass, Squalo. You don’t mind, do you?” The question was murmured in his ear, low, pitched that way deliberately, one hand stroking his cock, and he’s too fucking high to do anything other than nod; as long as he’s not required to give up the vicious stretch of a large cock up his ass, he doesn’t give a flying fuck. He snorts with laughter at an idle thought that crosses his mind.

“Wonder when he’ll go into Heat. That’s two down, and a third who has to be actively delaying his by his actions.” Ganauche snorted, and he clenched in retaliation, adding to the way he could feel his rear attempting to milk the man’s cock - a poor imitation of the way Xanxus’s had wrung his own dry when he’d fucked Xanxus’s ass at the beginning of the Heat.

“Depends how long it takes my little cousin to escape to Japan again, and how long it takes Romario to drag him home again. Tsunayoshi’s Cloud is interested enough in Dino by Romario’s accounting that sustained exposure will probably trigger a Heat.” Ganauche - Niccola - nuzzled the back of his neck again and how was the man making that feel that fucking good? “It took three months of your Cloud Flames being Active to push Xanxus over the edge; that’s probably a pretty good estimate of how long it needs.” There was a quiet moment, and the knot started to deflate; he squirmed, a little disappointed to be losing the stimulation. “Stop wriggling, Squalo, or I’ll use my Lightning Flames and ‘harden’ it again.” He weighs the pleasure of going again on the cock that occupied a third of his abdominal cavity, or putting some planning into security and repairs before his shitty-Sky woke up and demanded answers. Of course, he could hope Iemitsu’s eldest would distract the Boss long enough to let him deal with it once his shitty-Sky woke up, rather than do it now, and fuck. The cock in his ass softened, and slipped out and there were thoughtful fingers testing his ruined rim. “Not torn. You really have been riding Dino for years, haven’t you? What’s _your_ preferred way to deal with the aftermath?” He appreciates the question. Suggest the Lightning’ll make a damn good addition to the infirmary.

“Slide your hand in like you’re about to fist me and then drag it out _slowly_ radiating Sun Flames. Everything’ll slide back into place. Mist tertiary. S’how I can get away with riding Dino hard and still do missions the next day.” The Lightning follows his instruction, and he wriggles as everything settles back into the positions _it_ should be in. He probably shouldn’t have told Niccola that. FIxated fucking Lightnings. There’s the head of the man’s cock nudging at his newly-furled entrance again and he still has a fucking belly - why does he have a fucking belly if everything’s back where it should be.

Ganauche - Niccola - reads his mind. “Heat modifications. We’re all producing _pints_ of cum. A Sky uses it as fuel to get their bodies to accept the babies and accelerated their growth through the touchy part of the process so they don’t lose most of them to non-implantation. Xanxus’s slick has your body trying to do the same but has no use for it. You’ll break it down like anything else that spends a couple of hours in your lower intestine. Now, can I fuck you again, Squalo?” He’s not expecting the _actual_ explanation or the blunt question; both throw him, shitty fucking Lightning with his fantastic shitty-cock. The shitty-Boss is obsessed with his new toy, he’s got time; he allows his Rain to curl in his gut and presses back smoothly, trusting the new lubrication and thorough training to carry him through the action and comes to a rest fully impaled again. Mammon has the fucking compound skewed out of normal space and it’s going to cost a fucking fortune to get the Mist to fix Xanxus’s shitty-temper-tantrum, but.

“Fuck, warn a man, Squalo.” He snorts. That’s no fun. Movement on the bed catches his eye; and fuck that was pretty; the shitty-Boss was still asleep, had rolled over onto his side and was forcing his cock back in Iemitsu’s eldest, and fuck the mewl from the boy as he was impaled again was porngraphic. Fucking Sawada and his pair of pocket cock-tempters; the man was almost as tall as the shitty-Boss and yet his brats were barely five foot, and both of them apparently _loved_ cock and sounded like they should be put to work on their backs, not running the fucking first Family of the fucking Mafia. And the man was so straight - and straight-laced - he’d fucked his own Heat up, according to the fucking rumors.

But this wasn’t getting him fucked again, despite the fact he’d taken the shitty-Lightning’s cock to the root. Perhaps poking the man would. “Going to fuck me again, or do I have to do it myself, _Niccola_?”


	12. Basil's PoV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xanxus is one of those annoying people for whom sex makes their mind work better, rather than occupying the whole of it.

The dream - he only dreams briefly, barely closing his eyes before his new Sky wakes him again - is of red-brown Flames, almost liquid, and laughter and strange red eyes; it means something he's sure, but he can't think. Not with a cock prodding at his rear again, his Sky wanting him, and he hisses as it finally lines up with his opening and the head pops inside his sore passage; without the heavyweight of Xanxus-dono’s Flames demanding he enjoy the older teen’s vicious use of his body, it _hurts_. But his attempts to squirm away from Xanxus-dono's cock only results in the arm around his waist clamping tight and the full length being forced the rest of the way in. He bit his lip to avoid a scream, but a whimper still escaped his lips.

"Shishishishi, the pretty Peasant is the Queen's new favourite toy. The pretty Peasant will behave for the Queen, and the Prince will refrain from stabbing the pretty Peasant anywhere vital." Shit, he could see Belphegor-sama's eyes from this angle, and what the fuck? He'd seen eyes like that somewhere before. Somewhere important. His Rain Flames wriggled free of his mental fingers, resisting the way he wanted to use them to ease the pain, the sore place that Xanxus-dono was determined to use, and he wishes he had some of his pills; when his Rain Flames got like this spending sometime in Hyper Dying Will Mode was the only way to get them to settle down and 'behave'.

"Shishishishi. No ignoring the Prince, Peasant. Now will the Peasant behave and suck the Prince's cock for him, or will the Prince have to get creative?" The knife held against his throat - where had Belphegor-sama pulled _that_ from? - slipped. He could feel the burning pain of it having sliced through the first few layers of skin, the beading of blood at the site.

"Oops. The pretty Peasant's bleeding, shishishishi!" Oddly the pain and the blood helped him concentrate, helped him wrap his mental hands around his Flames, and the cut sealed, and the soreness in the passage Xanxus-dono was abusing in his sleep eased, leaving it all pleasure again, and Belphegor-sama staring at him, eyes wide and pupils slit, cat-like. "Shishishishi, perhaps the pretty Peasant isn't a Peasant after all.”

One of the Prince’s ridiculous blades pokes the Flame on his forehead, and it disintegrates; he’s confused. He would have thought the Varia’s weapons of choice would all be Flame resistant. “The Prince hasn't seen a Flame like before. But the Prince still wants the pretty Not-Peasant to suck the Prince's cock before our Queen wakes up again." He wants to ask what colour the Flame he can feel dancing on his forehead is; it certainly feels different from his Rain, and he'd ask, say something, but there's Belphegor-sama's cock pressing at his lips, spicy and sweet with Xanxus-dono's slick, and he's too exhausted from holding the state without the Pills not to just give in. Belphegor-sama's fingers tangle in his hair, forcing him to allow the cock to slide into his mouth, over his tongue. It’s the first time he’s done this, but somehow he _knows_ what he needs to do to make this easy. He swallows as Belphegor-sama keeps pushing his cock into his mouth and it slides back, back into his throat, and he doesn't gag on it. Belphegor-sama makes a pleased sound, and he’s full at both ends, and he’s not sure what to think. He wriggles, and then Xanxus-dono’s cock is rubbing against the sweet place in his rear that makes him moan around the cock in his mouth, and Belphegor-sama pets him. “The Queen’s not-peasant Pet is _very_ good at this.”

Belphegor-sama’s hand freezes at the rumbling purr from Xanxus-dono, the noise more like one he might expect from his new Sky’s box-weapon than from Xanxus-dono; it shifts to a snarl, but the possessive feel of his Sky's Flames, and the arm around his waist told him that it wasn't aimed at him, and he relaxed, pressing back into the broad chest behind him. "The Prince-trash will get off the bed, and out of my fucking bedroom before I kill him for calling me a 'Queen'." Xanxus's voice was low and threatening, and made his body throb. The Wrath Flames he could feel rising, Sky, and their other component so tightly meshed with that Sky that he couldn't figure it out, but that wasn't Storm, no matter what everyone thought. " _Now_ , Belphegor, before I knock you out and give you to Lussuria for the next month." His ass throbbed, and he whined as the Storm complied, withdrawing his cock from his throat and mouth. He’d been starting to enjoy that; his Sky nips his ear.

"The Queen is mean, and the Prince _likes_ that. But the Prince doesn't want to be the pervert-peasant's toy, so the Prince will be good.” The fingers that slid into his mouth in the place of Belphegor-sama’s cock are hot, and taste spicy and he settles to working them with his tongue.

"Providing you don't kill them and any limbs can be reattached, I don't give a fuck what you do to them, brat, but you _will_ need to set limits with my other Officers, or they _will_ take advantage." The fingers are pulled from his mouth again, and he makes a protesting sound. “Fuck. You can suck my cock when I get the craving for one of the others, but your ass is fucking addicting, brat, and my Flames want to roll around in yours for some reason, so just stay still and let me, and this _probably_ won't hurt." He's underneath his new Sky, then, large hands hot with Wrath Flames tight on his hips, pulling them up so he’s up on his elbows and knees, caged by Xanxus-dono. The Flame nearest the surface, the one that wasn't his Rain rolled happily beneath his skin, feeling like sugar sand to his senses; something else beneath it was hungry, and Xanxus-dono’s Wrath Flames were feeding the hunger in his own Flames with _every_ thrust.

His Sky's thick cock sawed in and out of his ass, bruising his prostate with every brutal thrust, and the way it was made his ass _feel_  made him whine needily; that need made the Flame dancing beneath his skin, the one buried under his Rain normally, shivered under his skin and he moaned as his ass's sensitivity doubled and re-doubled until he couldn't think through the dramatically amplified pleasure he was getting from the way his Sky was using him. "So fucking pretty like this, brat." Another thrust, and he wails his way through an orgasm that seems to go on and on and on, his muscles spasming around the intruding cock. “Again, brat. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s left panting, his cock twitching, and he can feel the new knot throb; craves pressure around it, attempts to reach it, but can’t.

"Basil your real fucking name, spice-trash?" He nods; as far as he knows, it is. "Fucking Sawada had your life all planned out, didn't he, trash? Makes you sound like one of his fucking Guardians -" Xanxus-dono interrupted himself. "What the fuck is going on with him, anyway?" His Sky has him pinned now, a Wrath Flame covered hand on the back of his neck, the thrusts lengthening and lengthening until only the very tip of the older teen's cock stayed inside his body, and how the hell did his Sky have enough of a brain to think those thoughts out loud while plunging his cock in and out of his ass?

"Perhaps I should call you Basilisk, in front of him, see how fucking long it takes him to realise I've poached you, and it works with your normal fucking Flame. And what the fuck sort of Flame is the one you're fucking using, anyway, brat?" The strokes lengthen further, and he has to bit the inside of his cheek as his Sky starts to batter his way through his opening over, and over again until it stops resisting, and fuck he’s glad Lussuria’s a competent Sun. He doesn't having an answer; what he does have is Flames answering his desires and a cock fucking his ass, and he wants to know what a knot feels like - had watched Squalo's response to being tied on Ganauche’s horse-sized cock, the pleasure on the swordsman’s face, and then "What the ever-loving fuck, brat?" Xanxus is plastered flat to his back, and he’s pinned to the bed by an enormous weight, a knot swelling in his rear and he purrs in pleasure as his ass settles to milking it’s occupant, his mind almost blank with the sensations.

He's bordering on unconscious from it, doesn't have any spare capacity to consider the question. "Mist-trash get the fuck over here and tell me what the fuck my new toy just did. Feels like a fucking illusion."

"Mou, Boss." There's two small hands touching the place where he and Xanxus are joined, cool, and he recognises the Flames seeping into his skin. The fingers change shape against his skin, curl against his Flames, thin intruders sliding into his ass alongside his Sky’s cock. "Real Illusion." The fingers and Flames unravel whatever it was he did and retreat, and his Sky starts fucking him again. He wants to protest; he was enjoying that, a lot. "More than that will need investigating and will cost. And I will be taking him as an apprentice, Boss."

“Agreed.” The new pace is brutal. “Brat, if you want me to cum, you have to stop whatever the fuck it is that’s making my Flames crave yours. They _want_ something and you’ve not given it to them, yet.” He wails; he doesn’t _know_ what he needs to _do_. His world narrows down to the pleasure from his rear and he reaches blindly for his own Flames and shoves them towards his new bond to his Sky. They wrap around each other and the cock in his ass pulses, thick, scorchingly hot cum filling him with such force he can feel his belly swelling from the quantity.

There’s a series of thuds; an annoyed “Whichever of you did _that_ owes me €10.000!” and “Fuck, Boss, what the flying _fuck_?” but he’s just pleased with the fact that he’s given his Sky what he _needs_ , and the pleasure he’s gotten from it. Xanxus’s cock softens and slips free, and he whimpers at the open feeling - but his Flames rise in response and fill the space and he’s left purring beneath the larger male, mind absolutely _quiet_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Working Title] A Little Less Submissive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757321) by [Night-Mare (Aoife)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare)




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